


with just one kiss, i forget i hate myself

by thelandofnothing



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (a and g being tops be like that pic of the beyblades on the bed), (and lots of it), (lots of angst), (when i meant lots i meant like LOTS), Angst, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Depressive Spiral, Dom elements, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Fwb arrangement, Miscommunication, Smut, disclaimer: secondary character OD, fwb gone wrong, gendrya big bang 2020, hot pie and lommy there for comedic relief as per usual, mental health, smoking and drinking, social work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:56:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25223503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelandofnothing/pseuds/thelandofnothing
Summary: Make me forget, you’re good at that, please.It wasn’t a soft kiss by any means, but she had never intended that; their lips and teeth grazed and her hands were in his hair, gripping wildly. He pressed up against her, trying to win the fight but she stood her ground, trying to pose as she knew herself; wild and unprecedented without a shred of vulnerability.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 132
Kudos: 263





	1. i - french exit for me and you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Weltverbessererin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weltverbessererin/gifts).



> thank you to [laura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weltverbessererin/pseuds/Weltverbessererin=) for the beautiful art and being on this journey with me. 
> 
> i hope you all like this one, it's definitely a trope i've wanted to write for a long time!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a little disclaimer and thank you to the reader who pointed it out. some of my tags keep disappearing so i’ll list them here:
> 
> this story depicts mental health problems, drinking and cigarette use, relationship problems, miscommunication and a whole lot of smut. 
> 
> it’s also a very happy ending so i hope you stick around :)

* * *

* * *

**_“I have stitched life into me like a rare organ" - Sylvia Plath_ **

* * *

Arya had quite the habit of fucking things up for herself.

She tried her best at university, majoring in whatever sounded better on her resume and at the dinner table, but it never seemed to hold a candle to her siblings who were always at the table with something new on their belt.

She took a breath and tapped her feet together, trying to keep out the cold in her ratty coat whilst waiting for the train. Thoughts about her family were always bound to make her spiral and she hated the pattern that would soon follow after, tormenting her day like bad omens. For all the therapy she had attempted, the good and the useless, there were some positive elements that came out of some of the sessions; breathing techniques, meditating and most recently, distracting herself with the present. So she did that by looking at the train station with people milling about and constantly rechecking the arrival board for the train. _The next train will arrive in five minutes, five minutes, five minutes._ She read out the list of stations in the route in her head to pass more time and then reversed them. _The next station is…_

She thought of herself too, how people would think of her this sad, dreary morning. She was wearing last night’s makeup; eyeliner and mascara staining her lids like a bad smoky eye. If her mother saw her now, there would be little hope of her recognising such a mess.

She liked living in the city, the public transport was marginally better than Winterfell but again, how boring had her life become that admiring a transit system made its way into the pros. After years backpacking through Essos and being a general disappointment to her family, applying for a post-graduate course at King’s Landing University at twenty-three had been the most domestic and tame experiences of her life. She did love her family, she loved the warmth and familiarity of her childhood home, the sting of winter and her father’s gentle eyes. But when the doctors and the lawyers and the academics started talking, she felt herself drowning in a maelstrom of conflicted morals. Nothing irked her more than having no voice, and it had begun to develop like a migraine, embedding itself like a tic in the back of her skull. At Christmas, she begrudgingly sat through each of her siblings bringing home someone nice to charm her mother.

Leaving home so abruptly was suddenly an instant relief to a wound that had begun to smart after so many years. Sadistically, it had been even better to hear everyone talk in their hushed voices as she packed her clothes into kicked in moving boxes, packing her car without so much of a _‘Goodbye!’._ Her father had been the worst of them all, for she hated to break his heart. But watching him sigh with his head in his hands had been enough to make her flee from his office in fear she would burst into tears. He had not said a word when she said she was leaving, not explaining a thing for she knew he knew. She knew it was partly her fault for not knuckling down, for partying and losing her head and hanging out with the wrong people. It had felt like the wrong path in the fork in the road. Part of her wondered if the guilt kept her father awake at night, like the time when she caught him in his study late at night with an untouched glass of neat whiskey and his face in his palms. He had looked broken, and she was much too scared and naïve to question why.

However, even though her mother thought she was terrible at absolutely everything, the only thing that Arya knew she was properly abysmal at, was letting herself be happy. She knew she had plenty of friends and was an extremely outgoing person, making friends in the oddest of situations, always needing to fill the looming silence with the buzz of people. But when it came to ‘dating’ that was where human connection was lost to her. She had tried, of course, firstly trying to appease her mother by going on those dates that only rich people arranged, where _their_ daddy owned _this_ company and had relations with _that_ firm or whatever. Her mother had been delighted, enough to even treat her with an ounce of respect but as soon as it started, Arya grew bored and stationary. Thus, she became her mother’s worst fear; the dirty promiscuous, bad-tempered, opinionated bisexual prone to sending conservative middle-aged women to the intensive unit for cardiac arrest. She liked anonymity, she liked for once, being able to blend in with her surroundings. For once, not under the scrutiny of high-class societal expectation, she could finally be insignificant. She removed the stigma from her sexuality and let herself be free.

Yet, it never filled the hole in her heart, not even close.

So King’s Landing it was; a city in which she lived in a lifetime ago, filled with memories that were confusingly muddled. She was a child then; dirty and ragged, with an attitude much too big for her consciousness at the time. It was the only place she could turn to, the place of her childhood friends that taught her how to see past her privilege.

“Oh fuck off,” she swore at her lighter, clicking it a hundred times to no avail.

It was always something blatant like the incompetence of a seemingly utilitarian item that was the thing to bring her back to reality. She tried again for a few more clicks until she finally accepted defeat, sitting up, sighing and rocking back against the bench with her useless unlit cigarette still between her fingers.

_Where the fuck was the train?_

It was cold, biting even and she could have sworn her coat had a hole in the arm somewhere. Lommy had told her that there was no use wearing the same useless clothes that she had, all probably falling apart from moths and overuse. But they were all slightly starving, underpaid university students so her roommate had little room to be a hypocrite. They were lucky that Hot Pie could do so much with the bare groceries they could scavenge together, still able to make a mouth-watering dish that put even her mother’s homecooked food to shame. She was lucky that her brash mouth hadn’t driven away two of her closest friends. She thought about it every day, expecting them to one day turn around and break the news to her. That she was unmanageable like her undergraduate friend had told her, immature, loose, lost…

The last one always got her.

Because she used to be; stuck in a never-ending cycle of self-deprecation and a lack of drive towards a common purpose. She had told her father when she was eighteen and fresh out of high school that she was going to be an engineer and then four weeks later she had fallen in love with psychology. She never used the messiah-like point of inspiration to explain it to him, she used the words ‘passion’ and ‘similarity’, as though a case study was a mirror she was staring at, observing her unmoving reflection. But living in a crack den in the middle of King’s Landing was not how most of her friends expected her to end up like; a spoilt girl from an affluent family, with an apparent trust fund and a family home that was easily considered a manor. She seemed to love continuously defying expectations, living out of her comfort zone.

She rubbed her tattered stockings together and turned on her phone to check the news. There was a derailment in the city and all trains were to be delayed.

_The next train will arrive in five minutes._

“Fuck this city,” she murmured under her breath and just her luck, it began to rain.

***

Class had been long and tiring, and she had almost fallen asleep on the train on the way back from her last lecture. The sun was hanging low on the horizon’s rim as she walked back, stepping directly in the hole in the sidewalk like she normally did.

_Routine is good,_ she remembered one therapist telling her but she probably didn’t mean getting your shoe filled with puddle water. 

So routine it was.

She got to her building and nudged open the door, fishing for keys in her bag before climbing the steps to her apartment. Unlocking the door, she was met with the sight of her chaotic roommates, who were brandishing wine glasses like housewives.

“And he was telling me how in undergrad, someone caught Professor Lannister in a strip club where one of his students worked—"

_Gossiping like them too it seemed._

“Hello to you too Lommy,” she dumped her bag on the kitchen island and went to the fridge. “Who told who what?”

She could see an opened pizza box on the coffee table. She had gotten the text they had food, but since she had been at university until late, she barely thought they’d leave her a piece. But just to her luck, there sat two generous slices of hot pepperoni pizza with her name on it. She kicked off her boots and hung up her coat on the rack, ringing her fingers through her hair tiredly. 

“Oh Gendry is back in town and he was telling me some of his undergrad stories so I have dirt on my Andal history professor,” he explained. “He’s got a beard now, can you imagine?”

_Gendry._

Her eyebrows raised and she sat down on the couch, in between the gossiping maids. The mention of Gendry Waters, her best friend in King’s Landing all those years ago made her hair stand up on end. She had not thought of him in a while, not so much wondering where he was or what he would be like at _this_ age. Because my, did she have quite the crush on him.

She shrugged her hair and acted nonchalantly.

“Gendry huh? Gods, haven’t heard that name in a while,” she muttered to herself and the room went silent.

“He got a new job here,” Lommy explained from her left.

“Where did he move from?” she asked, taking a slice of thin-crusted pizza on a serviette.

_Classy dining_ as she liked to call it.

“Somewhere near the Saltpans, I’m not too sure but he was helping out this orphanage as a social worker.”

“That’s—”

  
“Very Gendry, we know. Already had the whole discussion about it,” Hot Pie finished for her and she sat with her thoughts for a minute before finishing her slice of pizza. 

“So, what’s he doing back in King’s Landing?”

Lommy shrugged his shoulders but Hot Pie was eager to tell the story, “He didn’t earn much up there and I think after the whole thing with some girlfriend went tits up, he wanted to come back somewhere he knew and help kids like himself.”

Arya couldn’t help the shiver that ran up her spine.

“He’s not changed! Still exactly like you, fully emotionally stunted, grumpy and stubborn,” Hot Pie teased.

“Oh piss off,” she rolled her eyes.

Gendry Waters had been her childhood best friend when she was living in King’s Landing whilst her father worked with Robert Baratheon, helping run his company. What she remembered of him was that although he was grumpy, he cared for people in the same station of life as him. She had known him when his mother was still around until she passed away from cancer that had ravaged her body and her health. She remembered how hard her death had hit him and it made her recount on times she spent analysing his quiet anger as he sat and simmered in his own internal rage. Out of all of her friends from the time she had spent in King’s Landing as a child, Gendry was the most prominent of them all; bickering and arguing with her like they were a married couple. Then she had been dragged back up North, with no time to say goodbye and she lost contact with all of them, especially Gendry who didn’t even have a phone let alone social media.

It was just her luck that she found Hot Pie and Lommy on Instagram a couple of years after, both eager to keep in touch throughout the years. And Gods bless them when she came to King’s Landing a year ago; twenty-two with barely any money, driving Jon’s beat-up truck that he had given her full of all her things.

“We were all so young then,” Lommy told her. “You especially, you were so annoying.”

“Oh sod off, not like you were any fuckin better Greenhands,” she pushed his shoulder but laughed anyway. “You always got us into trouble with that big mouth of yours.”

“Yeah, but remember Pie had that stutter?” Lommy laughed and pushed at their roommates’ shoulder who looked away, sulking.

She laughed and finished off her pizza.

“Anyway lads, thanks for the food, I’m going to sleep.”

Hot Pie saluted her.

“Good night valiant soldier,” he said as she rubbed her eyes. “Gods, take your makeup off, it’s disgusting, you fucking racoon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved him off. “You secretly like this Effy Stonem look.”

She didn’t hear a reply except what she expected was a groan. She headed straight past the bathroom to her room, closing the door before she collapsed on her bed, fully clothed.

* * *

The rest of the week passed uneventfully, Lommy had dragged her to the pub on a Thursday night to meet up with the old crew.

The bar was seedy and dark, and Arya was wearing a ratty sweatshirt under an oversized leather jacket. It was cold that night, common for winter in King’s Landing but she always managed to dress poorly for the weather. She stood in the back, saying hello and engaging in small talk with a few people she was familiar with, trying to keep Hot Pie from hassling the band as they played shitty song after shitty song.

The night waned on until she saw him, leaning against the bar, drink in hand as he listened uninterestedly to some guy wearing chinos as he prattled on. She took a deep breath and walked up to the bar. If she didn’t do it before she left, there was a high chance that Lommy would do it for her, embarrassing her severely in the process. She sat on a stool to his left, leaving one between them so it didn’t look as suspicious. She heard his companion say his goodbyes and she took the chance to clear her throat as he sat down himself.

“Good night?”

She looked at him return to his drink, taking what she could tell was a deep, appreciative swig. He didn’t so much acknowledge her presence, more interested in the bottom of his glass. Part of her wondered if he didn’t even recognise her.

He shrugged and Arya avoided his eyes when he finally looked at her. “Music is abysmal.”

Maybe there was a good chance he didn’t even recognise her. In the quick glimpses she got, she couldn’t spot the sparkle of familiarity in his cerulean eyes. He was taller than she remembered and much broader; his shoulders taking up a fair amount of space between them and straining the fabric of his flannel. He was indeed sporting a beard, much too closely shaven to his face to be considered bushy but it made him look older than he was, also accentuating his pair of annoyingly blue eyes.

“And yourself?”

“Struggling through the music,” she muttered.

They fell into a comfortable silence; the clash and loudness of the bar was background noise as she sat there clicking her nails together. 

“Can I get a single malt?” she asked the bartender and he nodded. “Neat.”

“Put it on my tab please,” Gendry called after him and she looked up at him suddenly, watching the slight smirk on his face as he threw back the rest of his pint. “Nice to see you too, Arya.”

She took a while before she could formulate a coherent sentence.

“It’s been a while,” he said before she could get a word in. “What? Thought I wouldn’t recognise you or something?”

“Maybe,” she mumbled, nodding her thanks as the bartender came back with her drink. “You didn’t need to do that.”

“My treat,” he insisted and twisted his body towards her. “When I last saw you, you were like fourteen or something and your hair was shorter.”

“I was fifteen,” she corrected, and he smiled. “And hair, believe it or not, does happen to grow over time.”

  
He looked at her before rolling his eyes.

“Right.”

She took a big gulp of her whiskey, feeling the burn proliferate down her oesophagus. Anything to quell the way her insides turned. She didn’t know she was so nervous, and she couldn’t tell if it was either the crush she harboured on him in her youth or the fact they never got closure. She wouldn’t feel slighted if he were angry how abruptly their friendship ended, but she knew he would have taken it personally, and linked it to the clear distinction between their backgrounds which he never failed to let her forget.

“Well you look good,” he said, and she raised a single eyebrow. “You know… Compared to the mental asylum look you had going on.”

“Excuse me, I rocked that buzzcut,” she snorted, and he threw his head back, laughing from his belly.

He rubbed his eyes and let out one last chuckle before returning his heavy gaze on her form.

“Yeah, I can’t lie, you did,” he said quietly. “You managed to play it out, like most things.”

With her current mindset, she didn’t think she could handle an uncomfortable attempt at resurfacing their past with the man that made her gut curdle like bad milk.

“I’m going to go,” she smiled nervously, watching his eyes follow her as she hopped off the stool and wrapped her jacket firmly around her shoulders, flicking her hair out. “Class in the morning and all that. Thanks for the drink.”

“No worries,” he said, and she took her bag to walk off until his voice stopped her. “Will I see you around?”

She considered it for a moment, more used to acting like a ghost these days. But it was Gendry, and he was a friend from a lifetime ago so ‘seeing him around’ wouldn’t hurt her precious reputation.

“Yeah, probably.”

He smiled.

“Have a good night then.”

She didn’t look back as she exited the pub, going straight to the liquor store to buy something strong as well as a packet of her favourite cigarettes. She trudged to the park with her paper bag and sat on a bench with no intention of going home until the early hours of the morning.

* * *

“Myrcella is throwing a house party,” Shireen said as Arya rolled a cigarette. “Should we go?”

They were on the bus at night on the way to get completely trashed. She didn’t know exactly where, but when she was promised free booze and she didn’t do much but run out the door at her two favourite words. She had donned her favourite jeans and rubbed her eyes red with eyeliner.

“Not like we have anything better to do,” she mumbled. “Who’s going?”

“Lommy and Hot Pie said they were bringing Gendry—” 

“Why he’s coming?” she asked, and her friend raised her eyebrow at her. “Oh don’t give me that look, it’s just strange seeing him around all the time and he’s practically ancient.” 

Shireen was a quaint girl with a large scar on the side of her face that she hid behind the curtain of her black hair. Arya had grown quite fond of her in the year that she had spent in King’s Landing, studying at the top university in the city to escape her tight-arse parents.

“What? You’re the one getting flustered over the ancient guy,” Shireen bumped her shoulder and Arya rolled her eyes. “I’m _joking_ , take a rest alright? You guys used to be best friends and Lommy just wants him to readjust and all. I know he’s like thirty but still.”

“You really get on my nerves Baratheon,” she rolled her eyes. “And he’s twenty-nine.”

She felt Shireen’s eyes on her as she turned her head to lean against the glass of the window.

“Are you alright with _her_ being there? I know you guys had that thing—”

“You’re literally cousins chill,” Arya scoffed but Shireen didn’t look convinced. “It’s fine, relax.”

She had hooked up with Myrcella ages ago, in the bedroom of someone’s house when they met at a party. All that Arya could remember was the sheer volume of vodka that she had vomited into the toilet bowl the next day. She hated staying the night anyway, so it was for the best. Shireen however, had thought it meant the world had ended. 

“She won’t even see me,” Arya reassured her friend, patting her thigh. “I’ll be so fucked, I won’t even know she’s there.”

“Whatever you say, Arya,” Shireen shook her head. “Come on, this is our stop.”

*

Unfortunately, she didn’t get quite as fucked as she wished she was and the first person she was met with was none other than Myrcella Baratheon.

They arrived fashionably late at her apartment, situated on the top level of a fancy security building that had elevators on Visenya’s Hill. They were early enough for there to still be enough alcohol left.

“Hey, Shireen!” Myrcella slurred as she opened the door, she was swinging about a bottle of something that was half empty. “Arya! Wow, what a surprise.”

“Hi,” she greeted, attempting to act nonchalant.

“Thanks for the invite,” Shireen said tentatively, and Arya grabbed her hand to sidestep the drunken mess the host already was at a quiet ten pm.

“Now _she’s_ gone,” her friend let out an incredulous laugh.  
  


“Yeah no shit,” Arya laughed, “ _Wow, what a surprise._ Fuckin’ Hells.”

She looked around for something to drink, or maybe a familiar face in a crowd full of imbeciles but instead, she looked up and locked eyes with Gendry Waters.

_Damn, just my luck tonight._

She cursed internally as he cocked his eyebrow at her while Arya looked for a place or corner to run to.

“Speak of the devil!” Shireen said, gripping her forearm with a force that hurt and lead them to him. “Hi Gendry!”  
  


Sometimes her friend was utterly too chipper for Arya to handle, it almost made her want to throw up.

“Shireen was it?” her friend nodded until he turned to her. “Arya.”

“How fairs the lads?” she asked, ignoring his greeting that was anything but subtle, looking behind him to search for her stupid roommates.

“Already pissed, like the rest of the lot.”

“Are you not drinking?” Shireen asked and he shook his head. “Ah, are you the DD? Makes sense. Poor thing.”

“Reluctantly,” he sighed, and Arya looked away.

“Hey, I’m going to go talk to a friend alright?” Shireen said and Arya swore she would have hit the girl if it was socially acceptable. “You two have fun.”

Her friend had the audacity to wink as she went over to a group of girls, most likely from one of her classes.

“Want a drink?” he asked her, and she nodded. “Might as well catch me up on everything.”

She looked back at him and sighed.

Fuck, she needed two.

In the kitchen, she couldn’t take her eyes off his dumb rolled-up blue flannel, straining against the muscles of his forearms as he flipped the cap off a beer.

She was sitting up on the kitchen counter, using the elevation to her advantage so she didn’t feel as small.

“I feel like I’m at uni again,” he told her, leaning against the kitchen counter after handing her the beer. “There’s people eating face in the laundry.”

“Fucking amateurs,” she scoffed and took a swig from her beer, drowning Gendry’s soft chuckle in her own pathetic alcoholism.

Gendry looked taller than he did in the bar if that was remotely even possible; filling up space with his presence alone.

“Didn’t get to ask about you properly since you ran off last night,” he asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “I can definitely tell you’ve grown taller.”

_Those stupid arms,_ she thought, _they almost make up for how infuriating he is._

“So has your ego,” she told him pointedly and he looked away and rolled his eyes. 

“Glad to see you haven’t changed. Still a spitfire through and through, huh?” he smiled, “It’s good you’re here.”

She felt her heart ricochet in her chest.

“Is it now?”

“Yeah, I mean…” he looked her up and down. “We lost touch, didn’t have any way to contact you when you went back home and then you didn’t even bother leaving me your number when I saw you two days ago.”

She snorted and ignored the quite obvious call out.

“Because you’re a dinosaur,” she told him, and he rolled his eyes.

“Ah yes, the curse of the kid who doesn’t have Facebook.” 

She rolled her eyes.

“What are you doing here now?” he asked.

He slid a styrofoam cup of water towards her that she couldn’t recall him pouring.

_Thoughtful bastard._

“Child psychology,” she told him, and he whistled. “At King’s Landing University.”

  
“Damn, I always knew you were a higher achiever Stark,” he whistled, looking impressed and she felt a warmth settle at the pit of her stomach. “Do you want to work in something specific?”

She smiled involuntarily at his enthusiasm on her behalf, her insides warming up like an oven.

“I guess childhood trauma probably. Want to do something right with my life, help others instead of being a selfish trust fund bigot.”

He shifted and looked down at her, his cerulean gaze cutting right through her.

“You never were a—,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I understand, rich girl privilege and all that. But still, it’s admirable.”

She ignored the subtle jab at her family’s social standing.

“Not as admirable as your social work stuff,” he looked up at her startled and then started to blush. “What? Stop acting humble, it’s great work. Like an orphanage Gendry? Fuck, that’s right up your alley.”  
  


“Yeah?” he let out a breathy laugh. “How do you know that?”

“I mean, you always liked helping out kids when you were in that foster home, I remember you telling me. You swore me to secrecy when I found out you worked in the soup kitchen at the women’s shelter.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded.

“It’s stressful but good work,” he told her. “There’re so many kids that need help here, it’s insane. Good kids though, they need a chance.”

“Must be a good thing you’re back then,” she smiled.

He smiled back and she looked down at her lap.

“How’s your family?”

She sighed.

“I kinda… Left home,” she explained, and he frowned. “It was just getting a bit too much, being the family disappointment and everything.”

“Your mum was always hard on you I remember, and your sister—”

She let out a laugh, “Funnily enough my sister and I learnt to get along and look,” she sighed and took a sip of water to clear her throat. “I love my siblings, to death and they did nothing wrong but when I’m with them I feel like a—”

“A failure,” he finished for her. “Come on Miss Child Psychologist, you should know better than anyone. It’s classic middle child syndrome innit?”

She let him watch her carefully, whilst taking a step closer and closer until she could feel his body heat radiate off him. It was dangerous, whatever was in his eyes, but she there was not an ounce of need to flee in panic. She remembered that Gendry had always been able to make her feel calm with herself, and although he did his absolute best to rile her up, his steady head never made her uncomfortable.

“Because from what you’ve told me, you’re doing great,” the corners of his mouth raised. “Don’t need to be a doctor or a lawyer to make change, y’know? Fuck corporate Westeros.”

She felt a weight lift from within her. They bantered like this in their long-forgotten past, which felt as though was reinvigorated by a simple catch up in a dumb kitchen.

“Fuck corporate Westeros,” she agreed, taking another sip of water.

Thank the Gods she didn’t drink before this, she already felt intoxicated under his gaze.

She smiled up at him, basking in the shadow of his gaze. She felt giddy as if she were drowning at the bottom of the pool, yet what scared her was the serenity of being submerged. It had been awkward at first, getting used to his looming presence once again but it was slowly coming back, in a way that she couldn’t describe. The comfort of him at her side, not so much like a shadow, but like a shield that she could trust with her life.

“So, you’re staying here definitely?” she asked, and he nodded. “Gods, what could have brought you back _here_?”

He laughed and she felt warmth spill into her belly.

“Better pay, and I know this city like the back of my hand,” he looked around the kitchen, an odd expression on his face. “Besides, even though I _despise_ it, it’s my home. I know how to deal with kids that grew up here because I was one of them. I don’t know how to deal with kids who were basically raised by wolves.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, it was nice and all, getting away from the city but it didn’t work out, y’know?”

“Lommy and Hot Pie might have spilled about an ex,” she said, and he looked at her surprised until he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hit a sore spot?”

“Nah,” he assured, looking at his shoes. “It was a while ago.”

She smiled at nothing in particular, sipping from her cup. The first beer had done nothing, yet her mind was still reeling. She looked up and saw his eyes on her, trailing from her face down her body and back up to make contact with her own.

“You keep staring,” she said, and he cocked an eyebrow.

Staring at him properly made her realise how charged the air was and that were both suddenly dancing on a fine line. Then something in her clicked when she read his expression, his features poised in a way that answered all her internal questions.

He wanted her.

“Do I?” he raised an eyebrow. “At what exactly, Arya?”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You know exactly what,” she whispered, and he blinked.

“I don’t,” he told her, enunciating the ‘t’ with a dangerous click of his tongue. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

He trailed closer towards her, invading her personal space. 

With a proximity like this and a kitchen that was notably empty, she knew she could do something stupid.

Like, kiss him.

So she did, just to spite her foolish, indecisive head, grabbing the collar of his flannel and planting her lips against his.

She pulled away, expecting apologises or him to look at her disgusted, but instead his pupils were fat and dark and his lips red and gaped.

_Kiss me back,_ she begged, _kiss me back you idiot._

“Arya,” he breathed before reaching for the nape of her neck and drawing her in, stepping in between her thighs.

She titled her head and dug her hands in his dark hair, latching herself to him like a leech. They made out like teenagers on Myrcella Baratheon’s tidy kitchen counter, fumbling limbs and scraping teeth like they were high on each other.

He pulled away, his breath heavy with exertion and she had no idea what she looked like; probably freshly snogged and equally dishevelled.

“There’s people coming in,” he noted, and she looked behind him and rolled her eyes.

“Come on,” she beckoned, slipping off the counter.

She grabbed his hand and led him out of the kitchen.

They disappeared into the throng of people and haze of smoke of the living room. Someone was playing a good playlist, people in the living room, out of their minds. The cops would definitely be called soon. He moved his lips close to her neck, standing behind her as she kept walking.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked her sceptically.

“You sure _you_ want to do this?” she countered, turning her head and giving him a smirk that had him nodding.

“Fuck yeah I do,” he said, attempting to chase her lips.

She whipped her head forward, “Shut up then.”

Arya reached for the handle of the bathroom, allowing them to clamber inside until Gendry pinned her against the closed door, pressing his lips against her throat. The sounds they made echoed against the perfect porcelain tableau, uninterrupted by the chaos of their budding passion.

“I dare you,” he growled. “To fuckin’ make me.”

She closed her eyes and surged towards him, eager to do just as he bid. She felt his lips ghost against the column of her neck, as he trailed his fingers to the hem of her shirt. She knew things were moving much too fast, but she could not find any will to care, not with Gendry’s fingers dancing over her skin in a way that sent tremors shooting through her body. Yet, the rational part of her began to think, that maybe they just couldn’t rush from zero to a hundred.

With a push to his chest, he pulled away and looked down at her with concern flashing in his eyes.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked suddenly, and she watched him nod before resuming his previous activities.

It felt like a joke, a cliché one at that; making out with her childhood friend who got notably more attractive over the years of their separation. Even though they had a rocky start to their reunion, Arya felt a wave of comfort and trust being with Gendry, knowing he wasn’t ever going to take advantage of her.

“This okay?” he asked, just to prove her thoughts.

“More than,” she smiled up at him, leaning up to kiss the corner of his lips quickly and he took a moment to look down at her, his eyes darkening.

To avoid feeling so exposed, she cupped his groin and felt him groan.

“Is _this_ okay?” she smirked.

With his eyes half-lidded, he leant down to kiss her again, sloppily but carefully and the feeling made warmth pool in her belly. He was enjoying himself, she could tell, as their mouths moved against each other. He pulled away to drag his cheek against her own. 

“ _More than,”_ he mimicked, his lips trailing her face as she continued to stroke him through his pants. “Gods, you’re tiny, aren’t you?”

“Not my fault you’re an absolute stupid giant,” she complained as he moved her top further up her chest, to cup one of her tits still in her bra.

He chuckled as she took to his belt and he helped her, shoving his briefs and jeans down his legs so they pooled at his ankles. With one hand, she felt him unbuckle her jeans and she kicked her boots off, helping him slide the offending articles off so he could run the pads of his fingers lightly against her cotton panties. She sighed and shivered simultaneously, but she didn’t let it stop her from reaching out and giving his cock an experimental pump. He hissed and pushed against her so she was flat against the door with not an inch to move anymore.

“So stupid that you’re soaking, huh?” he said against her temple.

His thumb quickly found home, rubbing on her clit. She staggered against the door and let out a breathy sigh. He worked his fingers, pressing against her in a way that sent shudders down her spine. After seconds of perfect pressure, she saw a kaleidoscope of lights behind her closed eyes, as entered a finger into her and then a second up to the knuckle, completely and utterly assaulting her senses. His lips kept moving, whispering words against her skin from her neck to her cheek to underneath her jaw. Even the wandering of his hands was making her heart palpitate in her chest.

_Since when did a touch against her elbow make her knees weak?_

Suddenly it all became too much, a litany of feelings and sensations that was something so real, something more than a stranger sticking their hands down her pants. Gendry knew what would make her spiral, he knew the right places to touch, the things to say and the autonomy he held over her body in this one moment in time. As she felt, and felt and felt, the thought of them being so physically connected drew to the forefront of her mind, reminding her that not even thirty minutes ago, they were on opposite sides of the kitchen with an equally sized wall between them. How he was now was a juxtaposition to his socially awkward nature, like the man she saw in the pub who was desperate to get away from tattling conversation was now using his mouth for words she knew he would never be caught dead saying in the day.

She sighed as her thighs shook with the remnants of her orgasm, her head hitting the back of the door making Gendry pull his fingers away. Without breaking eye contact, he slipped the two fingers into his mouth and sucked them dry, drawing them out of lips languidly. The image burned into her brain and she watched him silently until her body reacted for her.

Cupping his cheeks, she brought his face down and bit his bottom lip between her teeth, showing him that she too had the authority of someone who knew what they were doing. Gendry moved as quickly as she did, brash and unhindered as his body moulded against her and her hands found their way, curling into his hair as he picked her to hang her around his waist and pinning her to the door.

He pulled away breathlessly and she heard him fumbling as he ripped the foul package from his wallet and push it over his cock hurriedly as if were a teenage boy. Yet nothing was juvenile about his motions when he focused his gaze back on her, hoisting her further up his hips to align her with his cock. Her calves circled him as if she weighed nothing more than a bag of feathers.

They stopped, only the sounds of the thud of the party behind them and their heavy breaths filled the empty bathroom, disarrayed by the chaos of their shed clothes. He looked at her in a way she had never imagined anyone looking at her as if she were the most desirable entity in the universe. 

“Arya—"

She held his face and rested her forehead against his.

“Shut up and fuck me,” she demanded, her voice low.

She heard him breathe, in and out, so slowly that it felt dangerously animalistic. It had felt like moments and lifetimes all at once, and one thing Arya was never prized on was her patience. She looked at him directly and gave out a breathy moan, craning her head back to expose her neck.

He snapped, shoving her panties to the side, as he did, frankly, just shut up and fuck her, groaning against her ear once he was fully sheathed inside her. He was big and she felt the twinge of stretching as she accommodated to him but when he began to thrust, slow and shallow before gradually speeding up, she dug her nails into his shoulders and cried out.

Locking eyes with his was a bad idea, he stared back with his pupils so dilated she could no longer see the blue. He was challenging her with his gaze, piercing right through her soul and, of course, her stupid sense of competitivity won over her common sense. She did not dare remove eye contact. It was a game, and she was not going to submit. 

“ _Harder_ ,” she dared, looking him with a matched expression.

He dug his hands so hard against her hips she was sure he would leave bruises against her skin, his movements becoming more frantic as she felt pleasure build in her core. The sound of their flesh meeting rang about the bathroom, blurring the noise from outside to a dull white noise. But everything outside was irrelevant, she knew that as well as he did.

She leant back and let his strength envelop her.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she chanted as he pounded her against the door of the bathroom, the hinges creaking violently.

“That’s it,” he said breathlessly, moving his lips down to her neck. “That’s it, Arya.” 

The door rattled as someone tried to open it, but he pressed her firmly against the timber, barring whoever was on the other side.

“Fuck off,” he called out and heard him turn the lock, looking back at her and narrowing his eyes.

“Oh Gods, don’t stop,” she leaned her head back as he thrust continuously into the spot that made her see stars. “Shit Gendry.”

She felt the pad of his thumb against her clit, beginning to rub at her furiously.

“Come on, come for me,” he commanded against her neck, muffling his growl and she climbed her peak until everything burst into hot white light.

He kissed her, continuing his movements as she moaned, long and hard against his mouth.

Outside the daze, he slowed down and let out a long groan as he came, ripping his mouth from her to rest his forehead against the door to the side of her ear. He sighed as he pulled away, half-lidded eyes and a smile drawn in ecstasy. The sight sent rushes of pleasure shooting to her stomach.

“Fuck,” he groaned, and he languidly pulled out of her.

He helped her down from his waist to place both her feet on the ground, holding her hips lest she fell flat on her face. She sighed as he pulled away and watched him take the condom off and throw it in the bin in the corner of her eyes. He collected his jeans and boxers from around his ankles and pulled them up his legs.

“You know,” he started, and she looked up at him across the bathroom, picking her jeans up from the floor. “I don’t live with two obnoxious roommates.”

She raised her brow.

“Is that so?”

He nodded and buckled his belt, lifting his chin and looking down at her.

“Wanna get out of here and do _that_ again?”

He slipped his shirt on and clipped her bra.

“Yeah,” she fixed him with a look that she hoped conveyed her agreement.

She couldn’t get out of that apartment fast enough.

*

It turned out that Gendry Waters didn’t drink too much, not because he was the designated driver for her ‘obnoxious roommates’, but because of an unfortunate incident during his undergrad years that landed him in the hospital which she hadn’t known about. He told her the beer he had that night in the bar had been a non-alcoholic kind.

“Some boys from my neighbourhood and I stole a street sign and shaved our eyebrows off,” she heard him say as he drove them to his apartment.

“I thought you went to the hospital,” she asked and looked at him for assurance.

“I did. Apparently afterwards, I split my forehead when I fell down in a bathtub.”

“Oh,” she said and cranked down the window to get some air on her face. She felt quite suffocated being in such close proximity with him. “That’s stupid.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Alcohol makes you do stupid things.”

She thought about some of her many questionable hook-ups and immediately agreed with his statement.

“How do you tolerate parties then?” she asked him as he pulled into his apartment complex car park. “Ah, never mind. You fuck your childhood friends in the bathroom and take them back to yours.”

He snorted and she saw him roll his eyes.

“You were just in luck,” he said. “I don’t normally go to parties. I only went because Lommy told me you’d might show up.”

He parked, cut the engine and got out of the car, not bothering to gauge her very shocked face.

As soon as they were through the door, Gendry had pushed her against the wall belligerently, seeking out her mouth with his own. She threw her bag on the floor and slipped out of her shoes as he hands ran up her sides, whispering filthy things against her skin.

“What is with you and pushing me against walls?” she hissed and felt him the rumble of his chuckle.

“Don’t like it?” he whispered, and she shivered. “Do something about it.”

So she did. She pressed both her palms against his chest and pushed until they were standing face to face adjacent to the wall.

She felt electrified for the oddest reason, as Gendry hooked his fingers under the hem of her shirt and slipped it up and off, palming her tits all whilst kissing her. She reached for his belt buckle and fumbled to open it while he chuckled against her mouth, stopping her hands by wrapping his fingers around her wrists.

She wasn’t drunk, not even anywhere near tipsy, as he had managed to occupy her so well there was no way possible that she could have gotten trashed. Shireen was probably wondering where she was, so were Hot Pie and Lommy but she didn’t have it in her to care.

  
“You’ve been waiting for this huh?” she hissed and bit his lower lip.

He pulled away and raised an eyebrow when her hands went slithering to his crotch.

“Patience,” he whispered, and she rolled her eyes. 

“Fuck patience,” she hissed and flicked her hands around to break out of his grip, yanking his belt out from the loop.

They both wouldn’t be in this position if they were so morally righteous.

He looked down at her from where he towered, and she swore she saw his eyes turn five shades darker. Then, his hands were on the back of her thighs and she was lifted back onto his waist, her calves wrapped around him instinctually. He travelled down the hallway to what she presumed was his bedroom, hearing him kick the door open and walk into the darkness.

Her back landed on the softness of his bed and Gendry’s lips followed soon after, sucking scorching love bites in the skin of her neck.

“Fuck,” she breathed, and she felt her bra straps fall from her shoulders.

“Okay?” he asked, and she nodded. “Good.”

He popped the cups, the chill of the unsettled air making her flesh pucker and she gasped as she felt the wet of his mouth fasten to one of her nipples. She cried out, digging her fingers in his short-cropped hair

He unclipped her bra and threw it to the side, grabbing one of her tits in his hand and fastening his lips to a nipple. She cried out and watched him suckle her, paying her more deliberation than the tryst in the bathroom.

It was unimaginably attractive of him, more than she could ever conceive.

“So fucking responsive,” he whispered, planting wet kisses down to her ribcage until he looked up at her through his lashes. “You gonna scream when I eat your cunt?”

She felt her body spasm involuntarily.

“Oh fuck,” her eyes rolled back into her head when he tugged her jeans roughly down her legs, her back arching off the mattress like a woman possessed.

And when he lowered his mouth to her hip bone and hooked his fingers around the waistband of her underwear, she really did sing like he said she would.

She woke at what she assumed was dawn when light was pooling from the cracks between the blinds. Gendry was sleeping on his front beside her, softly snoring with his dark hair a mess. She was glad he didn’t grab her in his sleep, or else she would never have been able to get out as discreetly as she always did.

She admired his face for a second more; tan but rough skin, full, angry eyebrows. Seeing him from this angle only highlighted how much bigger he was than her, taking up more than half of the mattress but yet she had still managed to steal most of the sheets. She remembered all those years ago, despite arguing like cat and dog, Gendry had always been generous, letting her eat his fries at the diners they frequented or letting her steal his pullovers when she again forgot how cold a sea breeze could get. Truly, he had been her best friend, the only one in the whole world who saw past her anger and her childhood irrationality to truly understand what was biting deep below. She highly doubted that one night was enough for them to avoid each other, not with their past history and mutual friends.

She sighed at the thought, rubbing her face where she knew her smudged eyeliner was not a good look. It was her fault, she guessed, she had been the one to kiss him.

_But he had kissed her back._

Although he was riddled with tattoos; the sleeve on one of his arms and the one that spanned the entirety of his back was beautifully detailed, covered in flowers, animals and what she could see were different types of blades. She knew it made him look rougher than he truly was, but once she looked carefully, ghosting her fingertips against his inked skin, she could tell the parts of his character were locked in the art upon his body. Her eyes drifted to his hands too that were riddled with little symbols against his knuckles.

He looked softer in sleep, without the usual scowl that adorned his brow and the angry blue eyes.

The observation of him scared the living daylights out of her. This was a different Gendry, one she hadn’t even bothered learning before she had jumped him.

She pushed the hair that was in his eyes away before creeping out of his bed, collecting her bra, her clothes and the bag of her belongings that were strewn across the floor leading to the living room. Her keys jangled as she hopped on one foot to get her shoes on.

Taking one last look at the apartment that she hadn’t even paid a closer mind to, she slipped through the door and headed from the train station with Gendry heavy in her mind.


	2. and now she’s lying in my head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arya and gendry reunite a little and arya has time to reflect on the pathways of her future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from cellular - king krule 
> 
> sorry it's taken so long!! between work and general tiredness i've been meaning to find time to share this. 
> 
> hope y'all like this second addition, thank you for all the support! :)

__

* * *

* * *

_Unknown number: Is this Arya?_

The carriage whistled as they went underground, whisking away the reception from her phone as she peered down at the single message. She sighed and locked her phone, knowing who it was without even thinking about it. She really hoped it wasn’t who she thought it was. She had been having such a quiet and uninterrupted trip on the train that morning.

By standards, Gendry was a good lay, a _great_ one if she was being completely honest with herself. She had thought about it every single passing moment since that night. She knew why, apart from what he had done with his hands, his mouth and… She looked at the old woman sitting next to her and looked the other way embarrassed.

She knew why, in all seriousness. Gendry had been a sturdy and unyielding presence in her life when she had lived in King’s Landing. Yet she couldn’t quite avoid the awkwardness that came with sleeping with your childhood friend you hadn’t seen in years. There was only so much one could do in that sort of situation.

When she looked down at her phone again, she had full bars of reception, so she sighed before tapping out a reply.

_Arya: it sure is, how may i be of service_

She waited a second before he replied.

_Unknown number: It’s Gendry btw_

_Not some lunatic_

She rolled her eyes.

_Arya: oh so definitely a lunatic then_

_Unknown number: Hilarious_

_HP gave me your number_

_He caught us on sat night_

_So don’t expect anything you receive to be genuine, it’s all been scripted_

_He is currently standing over my shoulder saying I should ask you how your day was_

She rolled her eyes at the string of simultaneous messages.

Hot Pie had a knack of being a hopeless romantic, constantly making things bigger than they were. The fool was trying to get them to talk, even reiterate what he said in what she thought was a passing swipe at her inability to form meaningful relationships with people. She honestly couldn’t believe him.

She saved Gendry’s contact anyway.

_Arya: so im expecting hes now threatening to throw a croissant at u for curving his pickup advice_

_Stupid: Correct_

_Arya: how to tell him u already got in there_

_Stupid: Awkward conversation for a bakery I’m sure_

She smiled to herself before her phone buzzed again.

_Stupid: Update, he saw your text_

_He wants to die_

_Stellar work_

_Arya: thats what he gets for reading our texts_

_poor hot pie_

_he rlly thinks we’re all in an austen novel_

_Stupid: Unless Pride and Prejudice had some deleted scenes…_

_Arya: don’t taint a perfectly good narrative with our hedonistic tendencies_

_Stupid: My apologies_

_We truly are savages_

It was something she liked insanely about him which itself was stupid because she didn’t like him _that_ way, she liked the way he could text her without the pretence of being overly awkward about her running off the next morning. She felt no trepidation of him interrogating her. Because she knew him. She liked how he didn’t reminisce about their old friendship or complain about the time they didn’t spend together. Gendry seemed to be very much in the moment, especially when his head was in between her thighs.

  
She looked up and narrowed her eyes at the passengers on the train. She really needed to stop thinking about getting eaten out on public transport even when with her infamously schooled poker face. 

Her phone buzzed again.

_Stupid: So just to spite him_

_How was your day_

She rolled her eyes again.

Smooth bastard.

She looked up to see if she missed her stop, but she hadn’t. She returned to her phone. 

_Arya: abysmal so far_

_and yourself?_

_Stupid: Well I spent half of mine with Pie_

_So you can only tell how bored I must be_

_Arya: yeah i was wondering_

_Stupid: I read that out to him and he actually threw a croissant at me_

_Arya: tell him not to waste food, there’s people starving_

_Stupid: Already did, it’s a disgrace_

She heard the train’s automatic system call her stop.

_Arya: well don’t die of boredom, that’s a pretty shit way to go_

_i have class_

_Stupid: Don’t let me keep you_

_I’m surprised you even responded_

Arya frowned at her phone and headed out into the throng of people already clambering at the station.

_Arya: what?  
  
_

She waited for him to respond, the little bubble disappearing and reappearing at random.

_Stupid: Well you didn’t have to_

_Thought maybe I was coming on too strong_

Arya looked up and felt her head swirl as she climbed up the stairs to exit the station.

_Arya: dw about it, u weren’t_

_ur a friend_

_Stupid: Good to know_

_Enjoy your class_

She switched her phone off and shook her head, trudging the way to campus in time for her lecture.

* * *

On a quiet Thursday night, Arya found herself wandering the streets of King’s Landing.

It wasn’t ritual, but she liked the blinking lights and the rush of people. It helped her forget her stresses, the whole drive of becoming one in the working cogs of a bigger picture, making a place in society, letting go of a turbulent and childish past that had no place here. One where she was as insignificant as the man who walked past her. She walked into her favourite pub, accessed down a side lane accentuated with glowing neon lights. She located her usual spot at the bar and felt a wave of comfort settle over her bones as she settled onto one of the bar stools.

“You’re looking vibrant tonight Ar,” Alayaya greeted her, drying a pint glass with a towel.

“I wish I could say I feel the same way,” she smiled and sat up on one of the bar stools. “Busy night?”

“Eh,” the girl responded. “Bunch of drunk Westerosi men, what else do expect of business in this city?”

Arya let out a chuckle.

“How’s your mum?”

“She is doing very well Northern girl,” Chataya appeared from the back and smiled down at her, her brown skin glowing. “Good to see you, you ready to drink the tap dry?”

She always had the ability to stun Arya into an incomprehensible mess.

“As I’ll ever be,” she raised her pint in salute and watched her walk away, checking up on things.

“Ma says we need a wall of fame like those shit bars in Flea Bottom,” Alayaya leant on her forearms. “But it’ll just be pictures of badass fuckin’ women.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Arya took a sip and looked around. “Gods they’d be so pissed if she did that, you have to.”   
  


“That’s what I told her! Remember when she played Summer Islander music that week and the Westerosi men lost it? Never seen her so thrilled to throw a grown man on his arse, honestly made my whole fucking night.”

Arya chuckled.

“Not like you’ll lose patrons, with all those yuppies coming down from Visenya’s Hill—” Arya took note of Alayaya’s distracted look. “What?”

“Blue eyes incoming,” the girl said under her breath.

“Should I be surprised you’re here?” she heard a familiar voice and she turned to be met with Gendry’s large frame.

“Well I am, you spend a lot of time in bars for someone who doesn’t drink,” she hit back, turning her body towards him.

Gendry was wearing work clothes; a pair of pressed slacks and a dress shirt that hugged his biceps in a way that Arya had to forcefully extract her eyes away from. Everything about him was laughable; when she was fifteen, she was sure he was going to head an anarchist gang and bring down the government.

“Happy hour,” he told her, a hint of disgust laced between the two words. “It should be illegal to see your colleagues after work.”

“Oh, how do you survive in corporate Westeros,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Only by kicking and screaming,” he sighed. “What about you? Drinking by yourself on a Thursday night. That’s not very like you.”

“I’m not alone, I get free drinks Thursday,” she shrugged her shoulders, just as she placed down a pint.

_Better than chugging off a bottle of vodka in my bedroom._

“It’s true,” Alayaya told him. “Had one of Joffrey Baratheon’s lackeys in here a year ago, was racist to my Ma and I, and Arya comes in tells him to fuck off. When he tries to get a swing in, she kicked him so far up the bollocks his grandchildren felt it. Mum bloody loved it, banned Joffrey and his little macho gang from here permanently and gave our knight in shining armour here free drinks every Thursday.”

Gendry chuckled and watched the girl go away, wiping down the bar. Arya focused her attention to the condensation on the beer glass, tracing the rivulets of water with the tip of her finger.

“Not even surprised about that one,” she heard him say. 

“Shouldn’t you be with your co-workers?” she raised an eyebrow as he settled down next to her.

“It should be illegal,” he repeated himself and she rolled her eyes as he sat himself down in the barstool next to her. “And can’t I talk to a friend all the sudden?”

“Yes, two friends, in a bar. Very normal,” she avoided looking at him for obvious reasons. 

“Arya,” he started, and she looked up, watching his face as it took a confused expression before returning to hers. “I see how it is. We’re just going to ignore that night?”

His hands gesticulated between them both and she hid her chuckle by taking another sip of beer.

“What night?” she joked.

She heard him sigh.

“Nice try,” he said, his voice low and calculating as if he were calling her out on her evasive behaviour like he did when they were kids.

Arya groaned internally. Gendry had always tiptoed around the fine lines of honour and respectability.

From what she recalled from her youth, he had always liked when he had control over things, knowing each step of the way and having a grasp on what was going on at all times. It was something that Lommy, Hot Pie and she had found excruciatingly annoying, and more often than not, they went out of their way to ensure that it was the very much opposite for him. Disorganisation threw Gendry off, it made him huff and puff. So, when he had texted her so directly about the status of their friendship, she was relieved to know she was familiar with his demeanour. She hadn’t much time to sort the mess of her head out; between classes and going out with her friends, there hadn’t been a moment for her to just breathe and relax.

“I think it usually entails awkwardly avoiding each other until our paths diverge and not talking about it like a business deal, especially not at a fuckin’ bar.”

“Is that what you want?” he raised an eyebrow, and she could tell her statement had put him on edge. “To not talk about it? To forget it happened?”

“No one talks about these things Gendry, no one,” she told him.

The look he gave her made her understand that this wasn’t just a teenage fling where she could easily avoid talking. They would be in each other’s lives whether they liked it or not, more so because there were years of friendship behind them. It had bothered her since, thinking about the night they spent in his apartment that they both had lives before they were reacquainted. A rendezvous or several and for Gendry, even a relationship. They were older now and had seemingly avoided all the clichés that childhood best friends usually followed. Obviously, she couldn’t quite ask Gendry about his sex life, but she could tell by his demeanour that he kept it, like everything else, vastly private. Arya had never thought of Gendry as someone who went out and had sex for fun, and maybe that wasn’t the case still, but she knew that night that he had experience. He knew where to touch her, which places made her tense, which places made her sigh and arch her back into him. In addition, there was the atmosphere that she could only deduce as charged.

Gendry was more dominant than most of her past male partners, and she knew that it would be a problem as she liked taking control more often than not. The thought of it made her insides squirm and not in the way that romance novels depicted.

“Do you usually consult your one-night stands like this?”

“Fuck off Arya,” he rolled his eyes, looking away and he could see a glimpse of the angry boy she knew before, who always wore the same expression when she got under his skin. “You know this is more than that. We’re… We’re friends.”

“And?”

“I think it’s pretty logical that we work something out, so it doesn’t encroach on said friendship,” he explained. “I’m not a fucking juvenile Arya, I want to do this properly. It’s not a movie.”

“So you want to do this again,” she teased.

“I’m this close to throttling you,” he warned her, rolling his eyes.

“I’d like to see you go through with that,” she raised an eyebrow, challenging him.

“I can ensure you that I’m a man of my word Arya,” he met her with the same expression. “Don’t you worry about that.”

She choked on her beer and looked away embarrassed.

It was strange that some people his age sometimes were already settled down with a marriage, a house and kids. Gendry, who she never saw conforming to the ideals of traditional roles, seemed oddly evasive of those norms. Maybe Gendry had done this before, with someone else, with other people even. It didn’t bother her.

_Maybe it did slightly._

“All I’m trying to ask is if you’re okay with this,” he sighed looking around the room. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

She noted he was the one who looked uncomfortable, something she had learnt to associate with Gendry’s features when he was out in public.

“You’d know if I wasn’t okay with this,” she assured him. “Do you know they’re going to have a wall of fame of women in this bar? I happen to be their reigning champion.”

He rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Well, I hope they frame a picture of you and put you in the centre then.”

They distilled into silence and Arya took the moment to finish off the rest of her pint, finding comfort in their mutual quietness. Gendry had the ability to fill the space up with more than words and it was oddly refreshing to be reminded a time where she didn’t have to chatter her way to fill up crevice of awkwardness people threw at her.

She looked at him and he looked back at her, a question on his tongue.

“Friends, yeah?” he asked her quietly, and she smiled at him because truly they were despite all the awkward implications.

“Always,” she said.

*

He offered to drop her home, which reluctantly she accepted because dealing with another crackhead on the train at a soft two am was anything but ideal. Besides it had started to rain, only making Gendry’s argument stronger. He drove her outside her block, the raining starting get stronger. She checked her phone to see a storm was meant was to come in from the coast. They talked more, about details that made her squirm in her seat, but she equivocally knew they had to discuss if this was going to be something they did frequently. He asked her what she liked, what she didn’t and he in return spilled the details about himself she knew never thought she would learn about him.

The experience had them laughing like little children.

“Had dinner yet?” he asked her.

“Yup,” she smiled and patted her packet of cigarettes, eliciting a loud snort from him.

It was curious being with him, the comfort of being locked away from the elements warmed her right down to her toes. It was the small things, him asking if she had eaten, driving her home so she wouldn’t get sick from the rain or have to stumble back in the dark. For anyone else, she would have told them to fuck off and to stop treating her like a child but Gendry and she had always had that dynamic. It looked like nothing much had changed except for a carefully articulated secret relationship.

Surely, they could manage it.

_They had to._

So she snuffed the flame of any feeling for him she could detect, blossoming inside of her. It wasn’t worth the risk of exploring, knowing that retaining their friendship was already as precarious as it was.

“You could stay you know?” he offered, and she watched him stare at the windscreen as it became dappled with raindrops. “I heard cigarettes aren’t a substantial meal.”

“Gods really?” she gasped, avoiding his eyes.

“I know, bastards the lot of them,” he shook his head in faux disbelief until his face settled into its serious expression once again. “Seriously, I do have leftover pasta in the fridge that needs to be eaten. We could watch the game or something. Like old times.”

She tugged her bag over her shoulder and patted his arm, somewhat awkwardly, whilst trying to avoid how intense his gaze was. 

She knew she needed to leave.

“I’ll see you around Gendry.”

Without looking back to see his reaction, she undid her seatbelt and made her way out of his car towards her apartment building.

Something dragged in the pit of her stomach and she wondered if it had to do with the pattering of her heart.

* * *

Seemingly, they had fallen into a routine that began to resemble a tradition from years ago.

Arya found that days had flowed into three months rather quickly and in a way that seemed so utterly normal. The week started as uneventfully as any, except a downpour accompanied it, shrouding the streets in murkiness and bathing the city in the foul stench of oil and pollution. Another delayed train meant there was no way she was making it to her lecture on time, thus, the only way to rectify such a shitty day was to lounge at Hot Pie’s bakery with a large coffee and a warm muffin, curled up in her favourite corner. The broadband always was better there anyway, and she could be diligent and attempt to watch a lecture whilst ordering her roommate to fetch her food. 

She shrugged the bitter weather off her jacket as she entered the quaint café, dumping her soaking umbrella in the holder beside the door, grateful for the instant rush of heat that greeted her. She walked over subconsciously to her spot by the wall in the little reading nook but stopped short.

She looked up to see someone in _her_ spot. When the thief looked up, she was met with a pair of familiar blue eyes.

_Of fucking course it’s him._

He was sitting with Hot Pie, obviously ignoring whatever the poor boy was prattling on about and looking straight at her with an unbashful smile.

“Oh, hi Arry,” Hot Pie greeted but her eyes zeroed in on the offending man. 

“You’re in my spot.”

Gendry’s eyebrows raised and his lips curled into an unfairly attractive smirk.

“Didn’t realise we were back in high school.”

She rolled her eyes and sat down in front of him.

“What? Not going to duel me for it?” he goaded, and she smiled. 

“How do you know I’m not meticulously planning your demise?”

“Pie! Get over here!” someone yelled from behind the counter and their friend scurried off without a word.

“I’m not giving it up you know?” he chuckled, and she kicked his shin right in the spot that made him keel over. “Fuck, ouch. Why’d you do that with Docs on?”

“Because you deserve it,” she smiled and got out her laptop. “Got nothing better to do than piss around with Hot Pie?”

“Day off,” he shrugged in his stupid beanie, looking pleasantly pissed off.

He hadn’t shaved in a couple of days, that she could tell by the stubble that coated his jaw. The sight was detrimental to her senses.

“I was talking around with a co-worker of mine,” he said, and she looked up. “Said she can let me know about a few places where you can apply to for a work placement.”

“Who said I wanted a placement?” she asked, cocking one of her eyebrows in challenge.

He snorted and leaned forward, his arms stretching against his sweatshirt. 

“It’ll be good for your course, trust me,” he said, his eyes smiling. “Better get in while I’m offering it. Because when everyone’s scrambling for one and you don’t have any connections…”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t have to be an asshole about it, I was always going to accept your help,” she rolled her eyes. “Where can I apply?”

He sat up and circled the table to settle down next to her.

“Open your laptop,” he beckoned, and she did as she was told, opening up a browser. “Pass it over.”

She did, without a moment’s hesitation and watched him type something, bringing up a map with several pointers.

“I work at that youth centre,” he said, pointing at a red dot that was close to their current location and she looked at him with one of her eyebrows. “We have a child psychologist on-site, just in case someone wants to come in and talk.”

“My Gods Waters, you want me to have a placement at your work, don’t you?” she teased, and he rolled his eyes, but in such close proximity to him, she could see the instigation of a trail of blush spreading from behind his ears to his cheeks.

“My manager has been asking about you, okay? Don’t have many people interested in tiny bastard psychology,” he defended, and she let out a laugh. “And they’re good, but Brienne said you can apply to any of these. They have online applications, so you don’t have to go to each one.”

“And yours?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well mine I can take you in today if you want,” he suggested, and she felt her heart pick up. “Only if you want. We’re a bit… What’s it called? Digitally challenged. Funding is lacking because it’s Flea Bottom but what we make do with what we have.”

She furrowed her brows.

“I thought today was your day off?”

He shrugged and looked at the counter where Hot Pie was being his friendly self with a customer.

“I wasn’t doing anything anyway,” he told her.

There was a fluttering sensation that sparked at the mere mention of Gendry and her spending a whole day together. She guessed she couldn’t quite group him into the small number of people she had spent a night with and seen again, Myrcella Baratheon included, but this was _Gendry,_ and he was different.

He was her friend and she needed friends.

Since he had come back into her life, he had managed to fuse into her routine so subtly she barely knew what was happening. It wasn’t as if they spent all their time together, but at mutual gatherings, they seemed to be drawn to each other like magnets, not so much continuing whatever they did _that_ night but feeling comfortable just talking and being in each other’s presence.

“Let’s go then,” she said and watched him grin.

“Sounds like _you_ want to have a placement at my work,” he looked back at her as she stood up teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah you wish Waters,” she said, pushing him out of the booth.

*

It was strange walking about with Gendry, listening to him complain about how outrageous croissant prices were when he couldn’t sneak discounts under the counter where Hot Pie worked.

She realised pretty quickly why the bakery had become his usual haunt, other than the fact that his apartment was only a ten-minute walk away. A few steps later they were descending to catch the train further into the city. Sitting next to him as the carriage rocked precariously felt oddly domestic in a way that didn’t make her feel like heaving her breakfast. After a couple of stops, he beckoned for them to get out, guiding her through the throng of waiting passengers until they were back on the streets, the murky day greeting them again. Arya could tell he was accustomed to the area; Flea Bottom was a place where she was told to steer clear from by multiple people, but she knew that this was where Gendry Waters was born and raised. Strangely, she could see the little parts of him in the rough, unpaved streets to the narrowness of the alleyways as he wordlessly walked them through shortcuts. The thought of it was curiously intimate and she pushed the feeling down where it couldn’t bother her anymore.

Soon they were at the entrance of a yellow building, squashed in between a pub and an obsolete barber’s shop. He held the door open and let her go inside first before crowding in behind her, the scent of his cologne sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

“Hi Gendry,” the woman sat up from her place behind a desk, and Arya stopped her jaw from dropping as she saw how tall she really was. “I’m Brienne Tarth, run this little place. You must be the budding child psychologist.”

“Nice to meet you,” she smiled and shook her hand. “And yeah, nearly there. Still studying.”

“Well it’s an excellent and rewarding profession and Gods know we don’t have enough of you guys around. Gendry has spoken of you a lot, so we were excited seeing if you wanted to do a placement. It’s not often we get people around here wanting to get some experience.”

She looked back to him with an eyebrow raised.

“Is that so?”

He rolled his eyes.

“I’m taking her around,” he announced, pulling her by the arm before she could further embarrass him.

She let him show her around, the different offices and rooms and even endured him awkwardly introducing her to his colleagues who gave them a mixture of suggestive and uninterested glances. The office space was a homely one and she could tell by Gendry’s demeanour that he had a healthy working space that he enjoyed. She noticed that the tension of his jaw, which usually accompanied his hostile nature when in public, was notably lacking whilst in his office.

“What do you think?” he asked her, leaning against his desk with his arms crossed over his chest.

She smiled at him.

“I guess I better write my application then.”

*

For lunch, he bought them ramen and they sat by the harbour, comfortably catching themselves up on the last few years. It was an old place they used to hang out, listening to Sublime in his beat-up pick-up. Arya felt herself grow warm when he began to tell her about his time in the Riverlands; working for a woman named Masha Heddle and her daughters in the orphanage. She noticed that he carefully slid past the mention of _Jeyne,_ the girl she had heard more than she needed to from Hot Pie and Lommy.

“Why did you leave? It sounded amazing,” she asked after stuffing an ungodly number of noodles in her mouth.

He went quiet, and his gaze went to the water where the sun was slowly setting.

“I think I went searching for a home, and I didn’t quite find it up there,” he told her, and she looked at him curiously. “I hated this city so much that… You know, I didn’t see it as anything but a smear to my name because… You know my mum died here and I was trying to run away from it all. Guess I didn’t realise that sort of stuff follows you.”

“A lot of shit happened here,” she reminded her and watched him clench his fists. The angry orphan was still in there, barely suppressed by a sense of control that had come with the maturity of adulthood. It was the grave of his mother, and the place he laid his childhood to rest. “It’s only fair.”

“I guess,” he replied, nonchalantly. “But it didn’t really work when I tried to go find it. Turns out you can’t find your purpose in the middle of the woods like the movies.”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t think finding purpose in the woods ever works out Gendry, not even in movies.”

“Oh,” he grinned and bumped her shoulder. “Guess I shouldn’t fall asleep halfway through them then.”

She looked out onto the harbour, watching the silhouettes of birds whisk across the dying sun. The picture of them, out by the docks, seemed too surreal for her to comprehend. It should have been awkward, the two of them, two people who had slept with each other, absolutely sober. Three months and a handful of casual hookups had helped them establish clearer boundaries and compartmentalise their relationships to their schedules. Friendship at one and wordless strangers stumbling about his apartment at another.

But when she looked at Gendry, the sight of his pursed lips and guarded expression made her shiver in a way the chill of the sea could never. There was so much she still didn’t know about him, although she felt as though she could read him like a book and it was moments like these that she hoped he would open up to her.

“My dad used to say when the snow falls and the white wind blow, the lone wolf dies but the pack survives,” she whispered, her voice almost stolen by the waves that lapped at the docks as she turned her head back to the horizon. “However medieval it sounds, it’s always stuck. About how you can’t go through life without a friend… Without a pack. No matter how downhill I go, I’ll always remember that.”

From the corner of her eye, she caught him turning to look at her and after a few inscrutable seconds, she saw him move.

“When did you get so wise huh?” he asked, a smile breaking the tension.

_Not wise,_ she wanted to say, _just lonelier._

* * *

Arya ended up applying to all the youth centres that Gendry recommended in the city.

The whole process had given her a new sense of motivation, especially when she was praised in front of her tutorial by her unit coordinators, commending her chosen options of underprivileged centres.

A few weeks later, still waiting for responses, Arya once again found herself in a bar, surrounded by people and mindless chatter. But what else could one expect on a Friday night in a bustling city that boasted a vibrant nightlife? She had always been extroverted, she loved being out in the middle of the fray and tonight was no different.

Except there was a certain man in question, sitting at the bar across the room who was making her feel quite antisocial. 

Gendry looked a world different to his usual wear of work clothes or scrappy band shirts that had identifiable holes in them. The tight shirt he wore accentuated his arms, clinging closely to a frame that she now knew all too well. That same body that pressed against hers, that she traced with her fingers until she could recount all the freckles and lines of his skin.

He raised his glass to his lips to take a sip, his eyes still trailing over her in a way that made a shiver travel up her spine. He was doing it on purpose, of course, a way to infuriate her, knowing she was progressively getting drunker with every sip she had without a healthy interval of water in between. She tore her eyes away, and finished the rest of her drink, her head spinning dangerously. She was quite notorious amongst her friends for letting loose but in the months that Gendry had been around, she had kept her relationship with alcohol at a friendly level.

Tonight, was different.

Her phone buzzed as Lommy pushed a drink in her hand and waited a moment before she got it out and had a look at the message.

_Stupid: I just saw this girl just down 4 pints in the last hour_

_I can’t decide if it was impressive or worrying_

_Arya: she’;s going for a 5th_

_also def hotz_

_Stupid: That wasn’t one of the options_

She put her phone away and stole a glance at him as he smiled at his phone and looked up, raising his brows at her. She raised her glass at him and took a large, unhealthy gulp, droplets of beer slipping down her chin. Seconds later, her phone vibrated again, and she looked at him, mouthing _seriously?_ She enjoyed watching him smirk as she refused to look at her phone. She fumbled in her coat pocket for her packet of cigarettes to check if it was still there, teasing him. She would need a smoke later anyway.

After a couple of minutes of pointedly ignoring him, she slid out her phone.

_Stupid: I think you missed your mouth a little bit_

_Nice typing btw_

She rolled her eyes.

_Arya: u watching me or somethin_

_u creep_

_Stupid: You keep telling yourself that_

She swigged the rest of the glass, her fingers slippery against the condensation.

“Right, we need shots,” Lommy announced and trailed off in search of more alcohol.

She watched him drearily, pathetically like a dog waiting for its owner to return. When her roommate returned with four shot glasses, she grabbed one and downed it like it was a routine. Ironically, this was where she felt the safest, the warmth from too many drinks and the blunt she smoked in the cab on the way to the bar making her feel as though she were on the top of the world.

She closed her eyes and felt the characteristic swaying sensation that accompanied her drunkenness. She was glad that she was a room away from him, it was enough distance to stop her from saying something ridiculous or snogging him right in front of everyone. Enough to tell him she really wasn’t going home with him tonight, no definitely not.

Her phone buzzed and she looked down at it, expecting another one of Gendry’s stupid texts but instead there was an email.

_Dearest Arya Stark,_

_We were delighted to receive your application… Ya da ya da…_

She opened it and kept scrolling.

_We would like to host you for your desired three weeks as part of an unpaid work experience placement starting Tuesday…_

Her heart began to beat rapidly, and she stood up, albeit too fast that Hot Pie had to steady her from falling on him.

“Seven Hells Arry, you’re fuckin’ pissed.”

“Going out for a smoke!” she announced loudly, pushing him away with the force of a toddler.

She exited the bar and rounded the corner, digging in her pockets for her lighter whilst trying to type out a message to Gendry about her placement until she bumped right into someone.

“Seven, sorry!” a voice called out that was too familiar. “Oh Arya, it’s you, fancy seeing you here.”

“It’s a fuckin’ dive Myr,” she slurred, watching the blond hair girl smile at her coyly. “Of course, I’m bloody here.”

The girl was wearing a black leather skirt that wrapped around her tall legs at a precarious length. When she smiled, her pretty pink lips curled up, her cheeks dusted with blush.

“What are you doing in a dump like this?” she asked her and Myrcella shrugged her shoulders.

“Just a night out,” she looked Arya up and down. “And you’re out in the cold just cause?”

Arya chuckled.

“Wanna go for a walk with me then?” she offered, “On this lovely, clear night. To corrupt our lungs a little?”

Myrcella rolled her eyes but her smile never left her heart-shaped face.

“Your chivalry has convinced me,” she answered, and Arya held out her arm with the vigour of an enthusiast.

Myrcella laughed as she took it and they walked in the opposite direction of the pub. Arya led them to a park she knew, listening to the girl’s laughter tinkle like windchimes on an undisturbed sunny day. When they stopped running and giggling, Arya slowed them to a walk and she intertwined their fingers, admiring the way the light reflected off Myrcella’s lacquered peach coloured nails. She lit a cigarette and took a drag, offering it to the girl who took it without hesitation.

“You’re beautiful, you know?” she looked up at the blonde who raised a single perfect eyebrow, a trail of smoke from her mouth.

There was a ring of lipstick around the cigarette, and the sight of it made her warm.

“And you’re drunk,” she replied blankly, passing the cigarette back.

“Both are true,” Arya agreed, nodding her head, her vision failing her, and she tripped, Myrcella holding her up so she didn’t stumble to the ground. “Hey, did you know? I got a work placement.”

Arya did not have a care in the world that she was oversharing about things that Myrcella probably didn’t particularly care about. Her brain had turned to warm sludge at that point.

“That’s great Arya,” she responded.

“Yeah?”

When Myrcella shrugged her arm off to walk a little faster, Arya grabbed her wrist and pulled her back, bringing her in for a kiss. She responded for a second, enough to give Arya a hard peck before pulling away, her eyes glassy under the park lights.

“I think we’re done here. You have a nice night Arya,” Myrcella said and walked away, leaving her in the dark.

She watched the blond slip away into the shadows, disappearing from sight and the park became eerily quiet as she swayed on her feet. There was a reason why she didn’t like being drunk when she woke up the next morning, but right now she couldn’t quite put a finger on what it was. Not when she was feeling this delirious like nothing could quite stop her.

“Can someone come and just murder me please!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

When no one responded, she succumbed to a park bench and watched her cigarette burn out to the butt, a little flicker of ash and embers in the cold dead night.


	3. make me wonder what I felt before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> arya knew something was up, and after isolating for a week she goes to make it up to him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a super smutty chapter so warning in advance! hope you all enjoy :)

Arya had quickly recovered from her rather embarrassing drunken night and suffered the same humiliating week of her roommates and friends chastising her immaturity.

It made her sink into a low, one not as deep as some she had encountered in her experience but enough for her to spend an entire week not talking. She would try and take in her surroundings, but everything felt like numbing white noise.

_“What if you got murdered?” Hot Pie had argued._

_“What Hot Pie is trying to say is that we were worried out of our mind,” Shireen added before the boy could spiral anymore._

Although she didn’t have a semblance of cognitive ability past kissing Myrcella in the park, she had managed to get herself home. She always did, it was just something that happened as if she were respawning in a video game.

But now, as she sat on the couch with nothing to do, the thought of it was as loud as ever. The apartment was empty that afternoon, echoing the absence of anyone during the working day. She needed more hours at her day job, or maybe she could tutor some poor, naïve undergraduate students but she had no energy to get up.

She sighed and thought of something to do. She could have studied but there was very little chance she would get anything done without procrastination, not when she was so preoccupied. She looked at the kitchen and the idea of baking popped into her mind. When she was in undergrad, she had a habit of baking as a form of procrastination which when she thought back to it, wasn’t so much of a bad habit as some of the others she kept.

She brought up Gendry’s contact to text him.

_Arya: im making muffins_

_speak now or forever hold ur peace_

She put her phone away and got set, bringing the ingredients out of the pantry and measuring the correct amounts into mixing bowls. Once she had gotten a consistent mixture, she put sprayed a muffin tray. After finishing, she put the tray in the preheated oven and put a timer on her phone, noticing that an hour had gone by and Gendry hadn’t responded.

And that was the odd thing, he always had his phone on his person, and he usually always replied to her texts almost instantly.

She looked at her phone again and sighed.

He could have been busy, but she knew there was more to it than that. He had been giving her half-arsed replies all week and she couldn’t comprehend why. Maybe work had put him in a bad mood, or he didn’t quite want to continue whatever they were doing. The latter she thought was quite impossible if his enthusiasm every time she had shown up to his was anything to go by. However, she knew Gendry and she knew when something bothered him, instead of confronting the source of his discomfort, he would hide away and sulk. She knew it had something to do with her, otherwise, she would be hearing him complain about it. Hot Pie had said he’d been around, but he had been in a foul mood.

So, she thought it was best if she did the door knocking, she had always done that to bring him out of a funk.

She packed the muffins she made into a Tupperware container and thought about _them_ and what had happened in the past months. A thirteen-year-old Arya would be screaming at her now, someone who had harboured that massive crush on Gendry growing up but with no means of ever telling him that. Thoughts of him warmed her to her toes. It grounded her, knowing that she was still appreciated by someone who mattered to her in a past life. Even being with him, without the thought of their arrangement in her head was pleasant.

He was a comfort at her side, he had always been.

But that was the thing, she couldn’t put that feeling in a category.

She slipped on her coat and tugged on her boots, switching the lights off before heading out to the train station. The ride was lonely, the sky dusted with stormy clouds that hid the sun as it set. At her stop she trudged her way to his apartment, narrowly avoiding the downpour that hit soon after she had used the key card he had given her to enter his block. She was silent as she took the elevator and got to his level, strolling his hallway until she was in front of his door, the cold whistling through the empty landing.

She shivered and knocked.

There was no answer.

She saw the light under his door, and she grew frustrated, knocking again harder until her knuckles splayed white.

Mid-knock, he answered, throwing the door open with a force she wasn’t quite expecting. Met with his angry eyes and tousled hair, she took a step back, her words failing her. He was wearing a thin white shirt that was loose against his frame, obviously settled in for the night without the expectation of a guest at his door.

“Can I help you?” he asked her, cocking an eyebrow.

“Yes, I come bearing muffins which you would know about if you read my text,” she rolled her eyes and pushed past him. “You’re pissed at me, what’s wrong?”

She dumped her bag on his kitchen counter, placing the container near his stove. She could feel his eyes on her as she moved about his apartment,  
  


“I’m busy Arya,” he said. “Maybe you should have considered I have work to do.”

“Want to me leave then?” she posed rhetorically, knowing he would never throw her out despite being sodded off.

“No, you’re welcome here anytime, that’s why you have a key,” he said, moving back to his table where his laptop was opened. “Thanks for… I didn’t know you could bake.”

“Just had nothing to do,” she shrugged. and he looked at her wearily, settling down on the chair. “Also, I have an agenda. I know something’s wrong, you’re mad at me.”

“Am I?”

“No,” she said sarcastically, her hands on her hips. “You just usually text me ‘K’ mid-conversation, completely normal. I made you muffins, so you know. Blueberry ones. Your favourite—”

“You got the work placement,” he said and crossed his arms across his chest.

Her face froze.

_Shit, of course, it was that._

“Hot Pie of all people told me,” he said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you know how it feels when Hot Pie knows more shit about you than I do? Especially when I was the one to help you get that placement.”

She swallowed. Even though she lived with the very said man, he did have a point. Hot Pie and Lommy didn’t have the same dynamic that they did, they never came close it and her arrangement with him didn’t do much but reinforce what he said.

“I was going to tell you—”

“That’s bullshit cause you didn’t,” he looked away, obviously annoyed. “Look, I don’t even know why I’m pissed off, it’s not like I expected anything different.”

She let out a humourless laugh, slightly offended by how honest he was being, but she refused to let it show on her face.

“I forgot to text you,” she told him honestly. “I swear, I had the message typed out as soon as I got the email—”

He looked away.

“I’m sure you did.”

She rolled her eyes and laid her jacket across the back of one of his chairs.

“Look Gendry, I got the email that night in the pub,” she sighed, leaning on her arms on the table. “And I was pissed.”

He looked at her then, his eyebrows raised in what she could tell was not an acceptance of her apology but more of a challenge.

“No shit but it’d be nice if I got a text after your hangover,” he said, with just the right amount of sarcasm to make her blood boil. “Unless it lasted an entire week because then I would feel immensely sorry for you—”

She hit the table with the flat of her palm, instantly bringing his attention to her as she stood up and circled him. She knew he had every right to be annoyed at her, she had thought about it the night after when she learnt that the text she had typed out hadn’t sent.

“Look I’m fucking sorry Gendry, it was shitty of me,” she said, feeling his eyes burn against her frame. “But it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, I am. I wouldn’t have gotten it without you, and I applied to all those places, I didn’t get any response.”

He went quiet and the silence was excruciating to bear. 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to shut you out. I know you don’t like that.”

He snorted and looked away, letting out a deep breath. Arya waited another minute and bated her breath, stepping closer to him. Tentatively, her hands moved to his belt, but he swatted them away.

“What are you doing?” he asked her, looking up at her defensively.

“Making it up to you,” she raised an eyebrow and she heard him exhale shakily, his eyes still boring into hers.

She waited for a second, waiting and watching as Gendry’s eyes got darker.

“Making it up to me,” he repeated, his voice low in his throat as if contemplating the words.

Instead, she slowly brought his hand up, slinking her fingers through his and guiding it up her body.

“Yeah I mean,” she brought his hand up to her breast and made him squeeze the flesh over her shirt. “You obviously don’t forgive me, so surely there’s something I can do.”

She stepped closer so she was in between his legs and she watched as his eyes flickered over her frame.

“Something you can think of?” she pressed, moving across her chest, his hands moving a little on their own accord.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he told her, his voice rushed like an exhale of breath.

He was doing a piss-poor attempt of keeping himself together and she knew what she was trying to do was working. At any time he could have pulled his hand away but yet he still let her guide him gently, his eyes following their path.

“Think of it as a distraction then,” she offered, moving their joined hand south, down her stomach to her cunt. “Anything you want. I’m not your friend tonight.”

Looking at her body with serious intention, she made him cup her under her skirt.

“Anything I want,” he whispered.

She let the silence settle, the distant drip of the tap in his kitchen and the buzz from outside accompanied them.

“Get on your knees,” he said suddenly, and she looked at him, not believing if she heard him correctly.

“Gen—”

“Want to make it up to me?” he asked, one of his eyebrows rising dangerously. “Distract me, whatever. Get on your knees.”

Looking at the intent in his eyes, she knew it was an offering to try out a facet of their arrangement, something that friends with benefits wouldn’t discuss in a cold, dark pub on a weeknight. He was giving her the choice. The thought of trying out this new dynamic; him telling her what to do and using his strength over her, would have terrified her in the past. But with Gendry’s face stoic but buzzing with unbidden desire, it made her want it more than anything she could have wanted before. She nodded and he sat up, moving to where his back was against the table and she dropped to her knees just as he had instructed. He bent down held her chin, bringing her up to meet his eyes.

“You going to listen to me or do I have to remind you?” he asked, his voice low and deliciously dangerous.

She blinked and bit her lip. His brows furrowed and moved his fingers, so his thumb was on her bottom lip.

“You’re sure? Know your words?” he whispered.

Instead of answering, she sucked his thumb into her mouth and looked up at him through her eyelashes. After a moment, she released it with a pop. They had talked about it, safe words and the lot, she didn’t need another reminder.

“I’m sure,” she said, her voice soft to match how close his face was to hers.

“Good,” he muttered, drawing away and standing up.

Her tights managed to protect her knees a little bit against the scratch of the carpet, leaning up as she undid his belt, feeling his surveillant gaze from above. Pulling down his zipper, she cupped him, looking up and biting her lip. His eyebrows furrowed and his breathing got heavier until it melded into a groan when her fingers braved the hem of his boxers. Loosening his slacks, he helped her guide his pants and boxers down his legs, so they rested as his ankles. The sight of Gendry’s cock sent a shiver trailing down her spine, settling down in her core. She looked up through her mascara lidden eyelashes she saw his dark eyes trained on her. Without him guiding her, she moved her hands and stroked him up and down languidly. He was big, that she knew since their first night together. When she looked up at him again, his face wore the expression of part frustration, part ecstasy and her thighs began to shake. It was strange, the idea of feeling so turned on when giving someone else the pleasure they had outrightly demanded. Arya’s repertoire didn’t usually cover being so giving.

But today was different and it was Gendry.

She licked the length of him and circled the head with her tongue, before taking him fully in her mouth, her jaw stretching to accommodate. Her hands came up to steady herself, one at the base of him and the other moving to his balls.

“Fuck,” she heard him say, his hips bucking against her involuntarily, and she felt herself bask in the power of being to one to see him come undone.

But after a few moments, he tangled his hand into her loose hair, right at the back of her head, letting her move over his cock before she felt him gently guide her. Slowly his hips began to move as well, adding another force. Soon, she could tell he was easing her off the reins, using his own motions to push her against his cock instead of her doing the work. He thrust his hips particularly forward, pushing her head against his crotch and she began to choke, her nose brushing the base of him. He held her there for a moment before he eased her off, a trail of saliva connecting them both and she braced herself with two hands on his thighs.

She looked up him and grinned impishly, he simply exhaled with his eyes closed.

She felt oddly vindictive seeing Gendry ready to guide her back, this time with the knowledge he would be harder and faster. And he was; pulling her back onto his cock without warning with his soft fingers in her hair becoming a tight fist behind her skull. This time, he was pushing her mouth to meet each drive of his hips. She knew in the moment, she was completely at his mercy as he fucked her throat, her eyes watering as she begged silently for breath at each passing moment where he became faster and rougher. But part of her was invigorated how long she could stay like this.

He was close, that much she was certain off as his movements quickened and her jaw screamed at the force of his thrusts. The back of her mouth was burning, and her mouth was dripping unapologetically with her spit.

“That’s it,” she heard him say, the unattractive sounds of him against her mouth hindering her ability to make out her surroundings.

The blood soared in her eyes as he came in her mouth, the sound of him repeating her name like a chant was background noise. She tapped his thigh and he pulled away, letting her retract as she gasped for breath and gagged. She knew she looked like a mess, her mascara, most likely, stained a trail down her face from each eye. Come dripped from the corner of her mouth and she wiped her face, feeling it move all over.

Gendry was staring at her, completely dazed.

“Fuck me,” he whispered.

She shivered again, her entire body brimming with anticipation. She couldn’t control the feeling of being so chemically driven, as if her brain had gone into overdrive.

This Gendry was different from the one she laughed with nor was he even the guy who fucked her against the door in Myrcella’s bathroom. She could tell the original frustration had seeped away and was replaced by the drunkenness of being in control, something that made the fire in the pit of her stomach roar. She had known Gendry was naturally inclined more to a dominant role just as he knew she was as well, but through an awkward, and concise conversation about boundaries, they had seemed to make it work solely from compromise. Being vulnerable never made her feel comfortable, she doubted anyone truly liked being vulnerable, but with Gendry and her in this room as if they were the only two in the world, she thought she could make an exception for one night.

She would never admit that this was how she truly liked him; completely unhinged and unafraid of this completely different sexual personality. Although she had been acquainted with enough to understand that he kept the same ground principles with everything he did, it was exciting to know she could coax something different out of him. She felt him cup her chin with both of his rough palms, lifting her face up towards him where he pressed his lips against hers, taking his time by tracing her bottom lip with his tongue languidly. It felt lucid, staring back up at him. She could barely recognise the scratch of the carpet beneath her knees.

“Do you know what you look like?” he whispered.

She wanted so desperately to reply wittily and say ‘a mess’ but she kept her tongue as he moved to the other side of her face, right by her ear. Instead, she let out a whimper.

“Properly,” he breathed and bit her ear lobe. “Absolutely,” his teeth grazed her jawline as he nipped her skin. “Fucked.”

She closed her eyes and shuddered out a moan, imagining his pupils; full-blown and fat with a desire that transcended boundaries that a friendship could unofficially lay. She felt him in her soul, right down to every cell in her body, to every filament that made her. His breath, ragged and caught as he grazed his lips over her skin made her blood sing so violently, she felt it vibrate in her bones.

He leant back and kicked his jeans from his ankles, taking his shirt off in one fluid motion.

“I want you,” he said, and she opened her eyes to see his cerulean gaze bearing down at her. “To get up on the table, ass facing me.”

His voice remained so deadly quiet, yet oddly gentle that his statement leant on the fine balance of being a suggestion. But she knew it was far from that, especially when Gendry was still panting. His hand disappeared from the back of her head, letting her hair spill down her back again. As she got up, unsteadily, grasping his forearm for purchase and he stood over her, a tissue in hand and wiped the spit, makeup and come from her face. It was oddly tender, but she wouldn’t be telling him that anytime soon. Then his hands were on the clip of her skirt, shoving it down her legs and holding her as she stepped out of it. She took off her own top and behind her, after pressing a kiss to her shoulder, he undid the clasp of her bra, letting the straps fall down her chest until she threw it beside her.

Her head was spinning as she used the chair to climb up on the table, feeling the wood hard against her knees as she got on all fours and arched her back. He felt his hand against the fabric of her stockings, tracing the curve of her hip down to the back of her thigh, tracing and studying and…

Suddenly a loud rip circulated the apartment and she looked back at him so suddenly, she swore she got whiplash. Cold air flushed her backside from where he had torn open her tights and she felt her cheeks burn red. She hadn’t worn underwear, and she was glad for his lack of a cliché verbal comment. Instead, she noticed how his breath hitched and the very sound of it made her shudder.

“Much better,” she heard him mutter.

_Fucking asshole, those were good quality too._

But when he ran the flat of his fingers against her, she shuddered and forgot about anything other than him, her entire body convulsing. She felt his lips ghost against the curve of her waist, sending tremors down her spine as if she were possessed. Against her, his fingers trickled lightly, mapping a path that had her thighs trembling until he pressed his thumb to her clit, the pressure making her gasp for air.

“There’s no hiding how wet sucking my cock made you huh?” he whispered against her skin, adding the flat of another finger and rubbing her.

Her knees were aching, but it was worth it when Gendry stuck two of his fingers in her cunt at an angle that made her cry out. He fucked her with his fingers until he curled both of them and she whimpered, her back arching involuntarily.

“What do you want?” he asked her, his fingers still busy inside her.

Her clit was throbbing as she stumbled for words, knowing she just needed to come.

“Gods, I want your mouth on me,” she hissed, and he spent no time hesitating.

He licked the length of her cunt, settling at her clit and sucking the nub between his teeth. She opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out as her nails scratched at the timber. His breath warm against her sent electricity circulating up her spine, making every filament of her tingle.

  
She wondered how long her knees would keep her up.

Using his free hand that wasn’t holding her by the ass, he moved his fingers above where his nose rested against her, circling her before entering them and mimicking his previous pace and angle. It wasn’t long until he sent her spilling over the edge, clutching aimlessly at the table as she tried to bite back a moan.

As soon as she thought she reached a plateau, he kept moving his fingers and sucking her in a spot that made her see stars and she felt her body tense in preparation.

_Oh, gods._

“ _Fuck_ ,” she closed her eyes and felt the second orgasm rip through her, wincing a bit at its intensity as he continued his ministrations throughout its course. “Fuck, too much Gendry.”

He pulled away immediately and she shuddered, the overstimulation of all her senses fading at the loss of his contact.

“You alright?” he asked, momentarily breaking out of character.

She sighed and waited until she caught her breath to regain her bearings.

“Yeah,” she smiled to herself. “Please don’t stop. I’m okay.”

He kissed the back of her thigh lightly before putting his hands on her waist and pulling her forward, so her hips were handing off the edge of the table hitting the buckle of his belt and the roughness of his jeans. Her hipbones stuck out painfully against the wood, but the way his hands moved over her overran the discomfort. In the distance, she heard him fumble for a condom before the tear of the foil echoed through the empty room, bathed now in darkness. She exhaled at the sensation of his skin against hers.

“I’ve been thinking about you all week.”

She arched her back and turned her head, watching him study her in the absence of light. She bit her lip and looked him in the eyes.

“Then fuck me Gendry.”

With an arm on either side of her where she rested on her belly, he entered her tortuously slowly, feeling herself stretch until he was fully sheathed inside her. Her cheek fell against the table.

“Perfect,” his hand rested at her waist. “So fucking perfect.”

And then he began to rock his hips, tentatively at first but enough to make her gasp until he picked up the pace and found a sturdy rhythm where their flesh met

“Touch yourself,” he ordered briskly, and she did, in a poor attempt, reaching under her hips to circle her clit.

The added friction had her moaning quickly as soon as he began to pummel her from behind. She ground against fingers, desperately seeking relief within the litany of sensations that he wrecked upon her body. She felt herself at the edge of the build until she felt him bottom out, hitting her cervix with sweet but painful touch, making her moan unapologetically.

“Did I say you could come?” he hissed, and she whimpered, trying to spell the words out _no_ with her lips but failing miserably.

She forced herself to listen, suppressing down the natural urge to do what she wanted and try and gain the upper hand. But she didn’t want to ruin the dynamic as strange as it was, she knew if she moved, there would no telling what would happen. But it was a tortuous process and soon she found herself counting the times she got so close to falling over the edge before she stopped herself and let him have his way. But it didn’t last, not one bit.

She couldn’t take it anymore.

“Let me come Gendry, Gods let me come,” she moaned, her mouth muffled against the wood of the table.

“Nope,” he growled, and felt his hand sting the meat of her ass, making her whine. “I don’t think you deserve it, tossing me aside, being selfish.”

She hated begging but Gendry’s hands were bruising her hips as his cock hit that spot inside her again and again. He was doing it purposely, taking his time to see her squirm. But if his long, drawn-out words and the way he seemed to gasp for air were anything to go by, she knew it was taking him everything not to lose himself too. She curled her calves and feet around him, hooking them around his thighs to press them closer together.

“Please, Gods,” her voice raised an octave as he got faster. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry.”

As if she had said a magic word, he relented.

“Come,” he ordered, breathlessly. “Come for me.”

Gendry shoved her fingers out of the way and flicked her clit in time with the rocketing of his hips and all she could see was white spots blinding her vision, her entire body tingling in response right down to her toes. She heard him let out a long groan behind her, his movements quickening until he went slack and bent over her, his forehead resting in between her shoulder blades.

“Oh fuck,” she whined, her body boneless against the table, her body held there by his massive frame.

He was panting, heavily and roughly against her skin and the sensation made her shiver again, especially when his lips brushed accidentally along the curve of her spine.

“Fucken Hells,” she heard him say from the back of his throat, the sound sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

The world seemed surreal.

But vertigo subsided when his two large hands curled around her waist and pulled her up onto her feet. When she looked up, she could only see his face, bathed in the soft yellow glow of the lamp. He was red in the face and completely gone.

_Seven_ , she ached, in all the places and muscles she must have overused; her jaw almost hurt to open it and the throbbing in between her thighs tingled with each breath.

“You okay?” he asked.

She stumbled and he caught her, slightly chuckling.

“Why don’t we lie down a bit,” he suggested, brushing the hair out of his face. His eyes were still dark, but she could see there was tenderness in them, a juxtaposition to the frustration and annoyance she was met with initially. “Go lie on the couch, let me get you some water.”

“I need—”

He nodded, knowing she needed to fix herself up before she relaxed before she completely sunk into the warmth that was him.

In the bathroom, she sat in the dark as she heard him turn the tap on in the kitchen. Once she was done, she dared to look at herself in the mirror, using the glow from the skylight to trace the trail of mascara from each eye. She looked at her hair, brushing her bare shoulders in all its mess. She was standing in nothing but her ripped stockings, and a collection of bruises and love bites.

She stepped out of her ruined stockings and put them in the bin, patting her naked skin down.

She scrubbed at her face and paused to close her eyes and let her head swirl. His apartment rang with silence except for the clutter in the kitchen and the slow hiss of the bathroom. The chill was biting at her skin.

After a few moments, she heard him knock, his shadow a looming presence at the door.

“Here,” he beckoned and passed her a pair of sweats and a pull-over.

“We can watch something,” he offered, and she nodded.

He took her hand and walked them back to the living room where he had already set up a glass of water. She took a tentative sip and looked up at him, as he settled behind her on the couch in his own warm clothes. He had turned the television and put something mindless and soothing on for background noise.

She moved and settled her head in his lap, draping herself on the couch and she felt his fingers thread through her hair and massage her scalp. Her eyes grow heavy and after some time she distantly remembered Gendry turning everything off and picking her up to carry her to his bed, feeling boneless in his arms. Once he laid her down, her eyes flickered open and saw him looking out the window. The sight was so oddly intimate as if she were waiting for him to come to bed after a long day.

“Hey,” he whispered, breaking out of his dissociation. “You sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

Instead of answering, she reached for his face, drunk on the intimacy they shared in the dark. Gendry wasted no time and climbed on top of her, his lips finding hers magnetically and his arms wrapping around her. Overwhelmed in a sea of warmth, she didn’t object as he pressed his weight into her, their kisses sloppy and languid but met with a pace that only the two of them could share. Then his lips were at her neck, sucking against her pale skin where they both knew it would show. But for once, Arya couldn’t care less about anything other than the two of them, wrapped up in each other in the warmth of his bed. Suddenly, the thought of whatever arrangement they had made slipped from her mind.

_This feels like home._

He slowly turned them over, so she was on top, still kept in place by the gentle force of his arms as he lips moved their journey to the underside of her jaw to her cheeks and tenderly to her eyelids and temples. She looked down at him, with hand holding her up on either side of his head, watching his blue eyes stare back up at her with his lips slightly parted. The expression he wore was curious, and she basked in it for a moment more.

She slipped down to the side of him, her head resting on his chest where his hand rested on her upper arm.

“Stay,” he whispered, and she didn’t respond, feeling him caress her hair.

The last she remembered was Gendry’s lips pressed against her hairline as she sunk into the warmth of his arms.

_Just to lie down for a bit,_ she heard the echo of his words.

*

When she woke up, it was still dark, the light from the street bathing Gendry’s bedroom. 

Her body screamed at her, so numb and swollen it felt as though the entire experience lying there was surreal. Then the memories from hours before began to cascade, a slideshow of her subconscious that bathed her in emotions she had no idea her brain had the capacity of letting her feel. Her head was still against his chest, her ear flat against his bare skin as his heart thudded like a methodical drum. She breathed in time with its rhythm, the beats mismatched but still, she felt comfort in their odd familiarity just like the way his flesh was heated to the touch.

She untucked the crown of her head from underneath his bearded chin to watch Gendry’s face slack with sleep. She had been here before, except the room was darker and his arms were around her, keeping her trapped against his frame. But ‘trapped’ seemed the wrong word, she didn’t feel locked against her will.

She guessed that was the other choice. She could stay here, in the warmth and comfort of his arms, breathing in the scent of him. Pine, metal and something familiar. Something she couldn’t remember but it felt as though it were an arm’s length away. She could wake up to his soft eyes and the little smile that she knew was reserved for her, and for her only. 

_No._

She disentangled her limbs from his embrace, slowly but efficiently, in an effort not to wake him. Her breath caught as she realised how deeply she had fallen. Because he would wake up, not knowing what to do with himself and she couldn’t explain how she just _let_ him.

“Arya,” she heard him whisper and she froze, watching his face contort as he rolled over, his arms outstretched as if he were still holding her.

When he settled once again, his soft snores filtering the room, she slipped off the bed, still wearing the pull-over he gave her. She opened the door to his bedroom and slipped out.

Her heart was racing in her chest, more so than the couple of times that she had done this in the past; completing a ritual of utmost silence whilst trying to get away from the man in question before he woke up. She dressed, finding her skirt and slipping it on. Her bra and shirt were strewn across the floor and packing them into her bag.

She looked up and was greeted with the perfect tableau before the storm had hit; his laptop still open on the far end of the table and the chair left slightly agape. Something deep in her belly flipped and she felt nauseous. She picked up her bag from the kitchen counter, flicking through her phone that was on a dangerous four percent. She had no texts or notifications to indicate she was missed. The world hadn’t moved since she had been in here, nothing to show of the earthquake that sounded in her brain, only accompanied by the ringing silence of Gendry Waters’ apartment.

She closed the door and rushed down the fire escape stairs, forgoing the elevator to get out as quickly as possible. Once outside, she took in the road, bathed in the light of four am and a slightly broken streetlamp.

Wiping her face, she headed to the train station and pretended nothing happened.


	4. iv - i’m on the red-eye flight to nowhere good

Arya hadn’t forgotten what it felt like to wake up in Gendry’s arms, nor she did forget the feelings that had accompanied that night.

She hadn’t forgotten the day after, nor the next week or even now after two whole months.

It plagued her, filling up every little thought when she was by herself with nothing to soak up the space with noise. She knew it had shifted something for the both of them, their agreement was wordless now and he wouldn’t ask her to stay when she went over to his, nor would he text her as frequently. She avoided places where she knew she would run into him one on one but was dragged reluctantly to the parties of their mutual friends. Slowly, his appearance at such events wavered until he didn’t come at all. The times he did, she would be pressed up against the wall of his apartment by the end of the night and she would leave shortly after when they had finished.

Whatever tenderness she had recognised at the start slowly creeping on her, had seemingly disappeared and for some sick reason, she was almost grateful.

Gendry hadn’t seemed to raise the issue that their friendship was hanging precariously over a cliff, although she knew him well enough to know he was brooding in private in the dark of his apartment. She could tell he was on edge by the cups in the sink and the mess of his coffee table. She knew she shouldn’t blame herself, but she couldn’t shake the guilt off her shoulders for causing another friendship to turn transparent and awkward again. But this was different. She knew Gendry past the rendezvouses in shadowed corners. She knew the life behind his cupboards and the clothes he wore, and his history and she couldn’t get it out of her mind.

She took a drag from her cigarette, watching as the night blinked back at her. She had only felt this way when she first arrived in Braavos, so blindingly lonely that she had spent the first week locked in her room underneath the covers, not so much opening the door unless it was to drag herself to the bathroom. In King’s Landing, it was different. She didn’t have the choice of locking herself away, she had a purpose and a life before her. That scared her, knowing she had taken the first step forward into something that had her stuck.

Her trance was broken when her phone rang, buzzing in her lap. She picked it up only to nearly drop it again.

_Dad._

She stared at his name for a moment, letting the vibration of her phone permeate the night’s silence until she swallowed and answered it. There was a line of quietness, but she could hear the howl of wind on his end, letting her know he was sitting outside in the Godswood by the Weirwood tree.

“Hi Dad,” she said.

“Hi darling,” he responded, and she stilled.

She could hear the winter winds in the background, something she didn’t know she missed so much.

“Are you least wearing a jacket out there?” she asked.

Before she could say something else to get rid of the gods awful stillness, she heard her father laugh, the kind he used to when she got into trouble or when she had used her mother’s red lipstick for the first time and gotten it all over her face.

“Yes, little wolf, I’m wearing my thickest one. Old bones as you know,” he said after a breath.

“Hardly,” she replied, snuffing her cigarette on the ashtray. “Did something happen at home, why are you calling?”

“Does there have to be a reason to call my daughter?” he asked but she could tell there was something behind his awkward tone and her prolonged silence seemed to depict how unconvinced she was. “Well, are you at least wearing a jacket where you are?”

She looked down to her bare sleeves, “Not too cold in King’s Landing tonight,” she said back. “I’m fine.”

Her father paused on the phone and she could hear the wind whistle as if waiting for him to conduct another bout of small talk.

“How’s the city?” he finally asked.

“Same old,” she replied, thinking about her life. It had felt like a lifetime here, even though only a year had gone by. “Not cold enough, how’s home?”

“Wish I could say the same,” he said, and she smiled. “Your mother has the fire roaring tonight and it’s still cold, even your pup is feeling it,” she smiled at the mention of Nymeria. “Seems like it just keeps getting colder and colder, you know our words. Imagine what it’d be like up North for your brother? Remember last time we—"

“Dad are you alright?” she asked, stifling him into silence.

She knew how her father was, he was soft-spoken, gentle and observant. Arya had always admired the way he conducted himself in front of others, in business, in politics but she soon realised that it was rare for him to be open with her. Yet faced with the throes of fatherhood, and a lifetime of bickering daughters, there were times she saw him completely lost in a panic that pushed him further away from her.

“It’s nothing darling, it’s just—”

“What’s wrong?” she pushed.

She heard her father sigh.

“I should have called a long time ago,” he whispered, and she watched the flickering lights dazzle around her. “I knew since you were a child you were never going to manage staying home, that you were destined to go off and do your own thing.”

Her brows furrowed on their own accord.

“I’m fine Dad, everyone was going to eventually leave home—"

“No, you know what I mean Arya, I never meant to contribute to you feeling ostracised from your own family. That isn’t right, no matter how you chose to live your life, we should have all been there for you. Me at least… But I wasn’t.”

“It’s not your job to stick up for me,” she returned, rolling her eyes.

  
“Arya, I am your father, of course, it’s my job,” he replied quickly. “I know you’ve always struggled with your mother and with your sister, but that was never the case with us. And even though your mother loves you… It’s just— She can’t…”

She had never heard her father scramble for words, his tone had always been strong and calculated, like that of a wise man. But now, she could imagine a tear spilling down his cheek.

“It’s different,” she replied for him.

“It is different,” he affirmed as if telling himself the words to convince himself. “And it’s hard being in this house without my little wolf. Just feels like it’s empty.”

She pressed her lips together and let her vision blur.

“It’s okay Dad, it’s not your fault mum and I don’t get along,” she insisted but she heard his humourless chuckle.

“I’m not blaming myself for that,” he insisted. “You and her need to eventually work on it yourselves, the both of you. But what I’m trying to say little wolf, is that all those times your mother made you feel a certain way for just being you, I should have been there to stand up for you to let you know that there was nothing wrong with who you were, just because you weren’t like your sister.”

She went quiet, tears brimming, and her throat closed painfully tight.

“I know that,” she said quietly.

“You didn’t know it then when I was too busy with work,” he replied and she could hear the desperation in his tone, a sound that made her tears spill over. “Will you let me be there for you from now on? Let me know about your life and what’s going on?”

She went silent for a second, settling in the magnitude of his words.

“Yeah, dad,” she said. “I mean, I’m starting a work placement this week.” 

“That’s excellent darling, that sounds promising,” he said in his typical voice, but it was enough for her to miss home. “I need you to know Arya, no matter what you do, that I’m proud of you.”

“Okay dad,” she whispered.

“Why don’t you tell me more about this placement of yours…”

*

“What’s that?” she asked as Lommy was scrolling on his phone.

She passed him and walked into the kitchen where her Tupperware container from the time she had baked was sitting in the sink.

“Oh Gendry came and dropped it off,” he said nonchalantly.

She furrowed her brows.

“Why didn’t he stay?”

Lommy shrugged his shoulders, not looking up from his scrolling.

“Saw you were on the phone, didn’t want to disturb you.”

She looked at the door and swallowed.

* * *

Arya had settled into her placement rather well, and the first few days had flown past her exceedingly fast.

The people who worked at the youth centre did so because of the good in their hearts but they were also incredibly busy. She didn’t see any of Gendry as he was too busy out in the field and got back to his office by the time she left off.

Brienne had paired her with the local child psychologist Ros Waters, who had been a prostitute since she was a teenager after being kicked out of home. Through the very centre she worked for, she had gotten into a college to pursue psychology. By shadowing her respectfully, Arya saw what the underbelly of King’s Landing had to offer, what intense poverty and drug addiction did to children in need. Most of Ros’ clients were in the foster system and were seeking continuous therapy for the trauma they endured. Most were in decent families, some in situations where they needed extra help and each case had Arya intrigued.

She had developed quite a close attachment with one of Ros’ clients, a young girl who was homeless and orphaned through parents of addiction. She had just been taken into a family but finding difficulty adjusting.

Arya couldn’t tell why she liked her so much, it was not as if the girl said much. The doctors that didn’t understand her had listed _developmental issues_ in her clinical notes, but Ros had told her that trauma had different ways of depicting itself, especially in children and for Weasel it had just meant she didn’t want to talk.

One lunchtime, Arya saw Weasel outside the building trying to light a smoke with a busted lighter.

“Here,” she passed her own over and the girl looked at her before taking it tentatively.

“Thanks,” she replied, flicking it open and taking a puff. “Not going to tell me to stop?”

Arya shrugged.

“I’m just a rookie, what do I know?”

Weasel just let out a smile and they smoked in silence.

*

Arya didn’t know much about the effect of heavy drugs, she had only done recreational ones in the bathrooms of clubs and house parties. To her, it was trivial; the rush of it that lasted a few hours until she went to sleep, and the weekend was over. To others, it was the very hand that clutched the throat of life.

Weasel’s quietness almost disguised how frequently she abused them, and it had taken an email on the second week of her placement to see the real impact.

She scrolled through the forwarded mail a seventh time depicting a hospital report containing details of an intense and intentional overdose

She felt her eyes well.

Maybe it was that and the myriad of emotions she had constantly pushed down her entire life but something in her just snapped. She cried without shame in the breakroom, tears slipping down her cheeks.

When she saw that people were looking at her, she held her breath and forced the tears to stop, rubbing her eyes forcefully as if it would stop them from being so puffy and red. She was being pitied, she thought, and soon she knew her observation was true when she heard Ros’ voice from outside calling to another worker.

“Gendry’s girlfriend’s having a hard time poor dove, can you go get him?”

She rolled her eyes and ate the rest of her lunch, ignoring the outside world and putting a front on. If anyone had anything to say, they didn’t voice it, even Ros despite giving her cautious looks during the rest of the day. They didn’t talk about Weasel, they just focused on the kid who was being bullied at school and didn’t know what to do.

“I understand, I was bullied too,” she smiled at the ten-year-old. “They used to call me Horse Face.”

The boy laughed and shook his head.

“You don’t look like a horse!” he smiled.

“Yeah I don’t, so don’t listen to those bullies alright? They’ll say anything to get you down.”

By the time she was packing up to go home, she heard something sound outside of Ros’ office. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gendry appeared, asking one of the staff workers worriedly.

She whipped her head around and tossed things into her bag, throwing her jacket on so she could avoid. She hated pity, and she hated that they thought she needed him.

“Weasel’s in the hospital again,” she heard from the other room. “Overdose. Your girl took it badly the sweet thing, it’s not the nicest thing to witness on a placement. I feel for her.”

She looked away, her heart thudding in her chest that Gendry hadn’t corrected the woman and that he had arrived here from whatever he was doing in the blink of an eye.

She felt his presence before he spoke, coming up behind her

“Arya—”

“I’m fine, I was just going home,” she stood up, gathering her bag.

“Hey,” his hand circled her forearm gently but with a force enough to stop her moving forward.

She looked at him and his eyes were so soft she thought she might throw up.

“It sucks, I know but I’m here,” he told her, his fingers beginning to stroke her skin. “Don’t take the train, let me drive you home.”

She looked away and bit her lip, not quite wanting to accept his offer but knowing it was more of a statement than anything else. Gendry would be too stubborn to let her cry herself back home on the train.

“I’m fine seriously,” she shook her arm free from his grip. 

“Come on,” he urged.

She looked up at him for a minute, her heart thumping in her chest at the sight of him. His eyes soft and warm as he looked at her, his hand a gentle but comforting on her skin.

“Fine,” she breathed out, walking in front of him so he couldn’t see her face any longer.

Gendry was silent the trip home and she held herself, leaning against the door of the car as the rain fell.

The tension was so thick in the space between them that Arya didn’t know what to do with herself. In recent months, she only knew how to diffuse conversation with one thing so when he parked outside her apartment block, she let the urge take over her before he said anything.

“What’s—”

She unbuckled her seat belt and launched herself at him

_Make me forget, you’re good at that, please._

It wasn’t a soft kiss by any means, but she had never intended that; their lips and teeth grazed, and her hands were in his hair, gripping wildly. He pressed up against her, trying to win the fight but she stood her ground, trying to pose as she knew herself; wild and unprecedented without a shred of vulnerability. He scrambled to turn the car off.

“Arya,” he sighed.

She had one hand bunched in his shirt and she began to grind her hips against his.

_That_ made him tear his mouth away.

“Stop it,” he told her, his eyes glancing over her frame and his breath ragged. “You can’t… You can’t do that every time you want to avoid something.”

_First their reunion, then all the times he talked too much, then when she hurt his feelings and now…_

She knew it in herself that she came to Gendry for more than a distraction, even though she managed to leave each morning she accidentally spent too long. But it was the fact she could see herself staying, wrapped in the comfort of his arms and basked in the softness of the morning. Almost like she could see him now, comforting her through the tears she wanted to cry. It scared her how easily she knew he would do that for her; stroke her hair, hold her and convince her that she wasn’t alone. But she would never voice that, never tell him that she was looking for contentment and not to scratch an itch. She had an inkling that he knew that too.

He caught the look on her face, and he averted his eyes, a seemingly pained expression taking over his features. She knew she was going to break further than she had already been broken.

“I can’t…” he ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t do this anymore Arya.”

She laughed incredulously, sliding from his lap despite his arms trying to contain her.

“You’re the one who suggested it,” she told him firmly. “Now you’re fucking repulsed by me.”

He sighed and she sucked in a breath, her arms crossing over her chest.

“I’m not repulsed by you, not even close. Just… Look,” he said, looking at her. “I fucking know it alright, but it doesn’t work for me that every time you want to avoid communicating, you come over. And you know it works, that’s why you keep doing it. Cause you know that I’ll bend over backwards for you.”

She looked at the windscreen, her eyes wide and her hands shaking.

“And I do,” he continued, holding her arm and pulling her towards him. His eyes were alit with unbidden desperation, like two storms raging simultaneously. “I do all this shit for you, I do it gladly cause I—”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything for me,” she hissed.

“That’s the fucking point!” he countered, and she was stilled into silence. “I didn’t do it cause you asked, I do it because I want to.”

“Oh so you pity me, is that it?” she felt her rage flare, pulsating hotly through her veins.

“Arya, _no,_ Gods could you just listen to me for once. I care about you, and I want—”

“I think we’re good,” she muttered and opened the car door.

“Can we just sit and talk about it like adults Arya,” he called out, but she had already exited the car, holding her coat closed as she rushed to her building. “Arya!”

Behind her, she heard the door of his car open and close, hearing his voice keep calling for her. She felt for her keys and rushed through the lobby, taking the stairs instead of the elevator and jumping two stairs at a time. She heard him try and follow her, but she got to the apartment first, opening the door and slamming it behind her.

Seconds later she heard him try and turn the handle.

“For fucks sake Arya, open the door!” she heard him growl and felt tears grow as she slid down the timber, collecting herself in a boneless heap when she reached the floor.

“Leave me alone!” she yelled, and she expected to hear her demand and go away.

Much to her dismay, she heard him sigh.

“Just because one bad thing happens at work doesn’t mean you get to lock yourself away. You need to talk it out, you can’t hold everything inside,” he told her firmly, not with the tenderness that was usually reserved for her.

She couldn’t comprehend why it hurt to hear him speak so plainly to her as he did. Was it that she had found refuge in his compassion and in all those months he spent praising her and supporting her, not asking for a thing in return? She knew he was a different person when they shared their nights, kisses and moans for just the two of them, but she knew his soul and his soul was good. He didn’t want to spend time with her anymore, cooped up in an imaginative bubble.

And that was the reason why she couldn’t let him in. Because in comparison, she was tainted just like an oil spill in the sea. 

“And just because I want to talk to you for once about—”

“Fuck off,” she spat, ignoring the tears streaking her cheeks.

_Why do you care so much?_

She began to count the seconds she held her breath, wondering if her words had stung enough for him to retreat.

“You know what Arya?” she heard him; his voice dangerously low but laced with fatigue. “Fuck _you._ Fuck you for running away whenever shit gets hard. Maybe I want to have a decent friendship with you, maybe I want to stop and talk. You really are a selfish prick.”

She deserved that, she guessed, but it still hit her that he could say it with so much ease.

“Life doesn’t work that way, it never goes to plan, and you can’t spiral every time something bad happens,” he said against the door, his voice softer. “Just let me in Arya, I want to help.”

_He couldn’t though._

“Go away Gendry,” she whispered, rubbing a hand down her face. “Just go away.”

After a moment of waiting, he did as she said.


	5. v - did i not let enough light in?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay but here's the final chapter! i personally loved writing this, and i loved exploring characterisation and ambience that differs from the norm. having a mental illness can sometimes be ugly and messy, and being stuck, like arya is during this story, means that she acts irrationally and shies away from things that have the potential to make her happy. 
> 
> i definitely know that's not everyone's thing, but thank to the lovely people who left such supportive comments or left kudos or even just read this story. 
> 
> thank you to the mods of the big bang and all ur hard work! it's been a pleasure 
> 
> now enjoy this chapter! and a sweet little epilogue too :)

It was hard continuing, but Arya knew she had to do more than curl up and isolate. 

Brienne had called her saying that she could have a few days off and that the first time witnessing a client not do so well was never well-received. She had also been assured that it had nothing to do with her input and that it was rarely the fault of the worker on the case but due to the external environment kids found themselves in. _“It’s like tempting fate,”_ Brienne had told her, saying that the hardships of this job usually weren’t as notable as the hero effort usually advertised.

But Arya felt selfish that it wasn’t just Weasel’s hospitalisation that had put her in this state. She knew that it had to do with Gendry too.

But ignoring Brienne’s niceties, she returned to work the very next day pretending as if nothing happened. 

“You alright dear? Gendry came and told us you weren’t doing too well,” Ros smiled at her. “Man, we all wish we had a boyfriend like that.”

Arya shook her head.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she had corrected the red-haired woman. “Sorry for causing a fuss.”

Her mentor had only smiled and put a hand on her shoulder.

“You weren’t causing anything, and you don’t need to apologise, just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she said. “And Gendry cares a whole lot for you, everyone around here knows that. He just wanted to know if you were alright too.”

“I know,” Arya forced a smile.

She did, but it hurt.

“You said you two weren’t dating,” Ros sat down with her. “And I know it’s not my place, but I know there’s something going on..”

Arya just snorted.

“Do you want to be with him?” Ros asked and she looked at her with an eyebrow raised. “I’m only saying it cause he really cares about you.”

“He’s my closest friend,” she returned. “Of course, he cares about me.”

Ros just chuckled and a put a hand on her forearm.

  
“There’s caring about a friend and then there’s… Well… Him.”

“What does that mean?” she asked.

“Look, hun, I know men,” the red-haired woman looked at her with intent. “They don’t know how to express shit but if they want something… They want it, and I think it’s safe to say that Gendry knows what he wants. That’s why he keeps running after you.”

“You think?”

Ros just laughed.

“I know,” she assured. “Friends don’t trip over their own feet after each other like that.”

Arya couldn’t smile at her attempt to make her laugh, it just set her heart thudding in her chest. Arya had run away from seriousness and commitment her entire life in order to avoid being hurt and being vulnerable. But if there was one person, she could think of to be vulnerable in front of, it would be him.

_Only him._

Arya swallowed.

“I should talk to him.”

Ros just smiled and tapped her thigh.

“That’s a girl, he’d like that.”

Arya thought about how dry her phone had been, that since she told him to go away, he hadn’t called her a single time or bothered to text. But that was her own fault for expecting so much after pushing away the one person who cared a lick about her.

So Ros was right, she would have to push her pride away and go to him.

“Weasel’s fine, right?”

“Yeah, she’s been better but stable at the moment,” the woman reassured her.

“Could I possibly visit her?”

“Of course,” Ros said, smiling. “Let me find her details.”

So Arya did, sneaking an extra packet of cigarettes in for her as she talked to the girl and she listened. She talked of Gendry and how life didn’t have much time for drunk girls with nicotine addictions and conservative rich mothers.

The girl just smiled and held her hand. 

* * *

Arya found herself outside his apartment one gloomy Sunday.

She still had the keycard he had given her, something he hadn’t pushed to ask for it back. As insignificant as it was, sitting in the palm of her hand as she waited outside the door, it appeared to her like a symbol of hope, that this was the literal key to the door which divided them.

She sighed and looked around her. Gendry had his life, his job, his own apartment. He didn’t have, as she remembered him saying, two annoying roommates to bother him. He wasn’t even stuck in the clutches of corporate Westeros. Everything he had ever strived for seemed to be there for him.

_That except family._

She remembered the week she was preparing to leave, not knowing which day it would be because her father was desperate to get out of the city. She had sat with Gendry in the back of the pub his mother worked at, watching him study silently.

He had made a passing comment about how he didn’t have a household, that his mother worked all hours of the night and was barely there. That he had no father.

_“But I’m your family,” she said, all in seriousness._

_He had just given her a pointed look._

_“You’ve got your own family Arry, and I’m not part of that.”_

She shook her head and was back in his freezing cold hallway, waiting with her knuckles hovering over the door.

She closed her eyes.

_Come on Stark, it’s only him._

She knocked on his door and waited, not expecting him to open it immediately but she knew by the light under his door that he was home. How many times had she done this? How many times had she waited for him to open the door, standing in that hallway?

While she was questioning herself, he opened it, a premature scowl on his face that vanished as soon as he saw her.

His hair looked like he had run his hands through it too many times and his eyes looked heavy, bogged down by what she could tell was the weight of his job and maybe the conflict that had stricken the both of them for weeks on end. 

_Who was she?_

“Arya—"

“I am a selfish prick,” she said softly. “You were right about that.”

He took in a breath and they distilled into silence, him looking at her as if she would dissipate and her most likely looking at him as if her heart was going to break if she stayed a minute longer.

“I didn’t mean to say that,” he told her solemnly, looking at her worriedly. “Not at all. It was horrible and I was angry that—”

“But it’s the truth,” she said, feeling her eyes quiver with the threat of tears. “I was… I’ve always been and it’s not fair on you. And especially when you dropped me off, when I should have heard you out.”

He pinched his temples and sighed tiredly.

_Maybe it terrified him like it terrified her._

“It’s just…” she started, fidgeting with the ratty hem of her pullover. “It scares me.”

His eyes softened as he took her in.

“What does?” he asked, tenderly.

She inhaled for a moment to regain her thoughts, so she could articulate best how he made her feel, how she felt for him.

“It scares me how I feel about you,” she told him, and his brows raised ever so slightly.

“And how do you feel for me?”

She looked back at the hallway and the flickering lights. She felt like a target of open season.

“Can I come inside?” she whispered, and he nodded suddenly and wordlessly, pulling away from where he had barricaded the door with his body, letting her pass through before closing it.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked her.

She smiled at that. It was the first time he had offered her something more than opening his door and letting her jump him. Yet their last time together he had gotten her a glass of water, looked after her even. The thought of his fingers against her scalp, his lips pressed against her hairline.

It had been Hot Pie had sat down with her during that month of ostracising herself from Gendry. He wasn’t a man of many wise words, but he cared and for Arya, that was more than enough. He had confronted her about Gendry’s bad mood, about them avoiding each other and about the obvious lack of contact.

_“I can’t commit,” she had told him._

_“Well do you like him?”_

_Arya had swallowed down the truth, that she loved him but didn’t know in Seven Hells she could express it. How she could articulate the myriad of feelings she had for him without the fear of rejection hanging over her like an aura._

_“Well he likes you, a whole deal more than he likes us cause you’re the most special person to him in the world,” he had explained, and she fell silent. “He likes you despite you being a mess, and he still likes you now even when you’ve pushed him away."_

_“Pie—”_

_“Enough, I don’t wanna hear anymore unless you're planning to go knock on his door and sort your shit out.”_

_Arya had just smiled slightly._

_“You two were meant to be together from the day you met, it’s inevitable.”_

“Water is fine,” she watched his eyes flicker.

“I can make tea,” he suggested, and she smiled.

“Okay, tea sounds better.”

She guessed it was Gendry’s way to distract himself before he was faced with her. When he turned his back, she counted her breaths. _In and out, in and out, in and—_

“I missed you, y’know?” she blurted out and she turned around to watch him freeze. “Which is stupid, because we live ten minutes away and we…”

He turned to look at her, his stance defensive but his eyes so soft she thought he might cry. But it was Gendry, and very few things actually did make him cry. She recalled seeing him cry once on his birthday, a single slip of a tear that had gotten past his defences but never again. 

Then, she saw him look away, the hint of a slight smile gracing his lips.

“I missed you too,” his voice was muffled as the kettle started to boil. “More than you know, I thought I lost my best friend.”

His words struck her, and she felt a tirade of emotions flush over her unbeknownst to him. She hadn’t ever wanted him to feel that way.

_You couldn’t, not even if you tried._

She swallowed the lump in her throat, meaning to say something in return; that she was sorry he had to witness her spiral, for keeping him out, for telling him to leave her alone when she clearly needed his help. But instead, she moved around the living room and sat on his couch, feeling the leather cushion depress, dwarfing her in a sea of pillows and ratty throw blankets. She watched him wait until the kettle was boiled, his face stuck with a plain, mindless expression that couldn’t fathom him ever wearing, especially when she was in the vicinity. The clatter of porcelain filled the room, and he moved methodically around the small kitchen, pouring steaming water with an acute sense of caution.

When he turned to face her, walking to the living room, she didn’t dare avert her eyes.

“Are those your mum’s?” she asked as he set the teacups and saucers on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile graced his lips. “Surprised you remember.”

“She used to make us tea,” she reminisced. “With the biscuits.”

“Yeah,” he said. “She loved you.”

Her heart thudded as he sat down in the chair that faced her, running his hands over his face. He looked exhausted to his bones, and she could tell it wasn’t just work that had put him in such a state. Maria Waters wasn’t a gentle woman, but she was loving just like Gendry was. She saw her in his face sometimes, the storm over his features could be so easily washed away with a glance of tenderness. 

“How’s class?” he asked, and she bit her lip.

“Nearly done,” she smiled.

“So your placement is over,” he said as if he were trying to commit to small talk. “Everyone is going to miss you.”

“Well it’s thanks to you,” she looked up to him. 

He regarded her for a moment and then sighed.

“I wanted to call,” he said, his words hanging as he looked someplace over her shoulder. “But I didn’t think you’d answer.”

“You’re right,” she told him honestly, lifting the teacup up to her lips, her nostrils burning with the scent of peppermint. “And it was my responsibility to reach out after pushing you away… So it was… It was a good choice on your behalf.”

The tea his mother always had around the house, the smell of it in her hair. And then it hit her. Gendry smelt like it too, the soft kind of scent that mingled with his cologne. It made her feel at home.

_It made her feel at home._

His apartment rang with silence, bar the sounds of the downstairs neighbours screaming in the distance.

“I should have talked to you about… What I said in the car, I should have approached it when you weren’t upset,” he told her and sighed. “Cause ever since that night when you came over here and we did that scene, I knew it was… That we were fucked Arya… That I knew I was going to lose you.”

Her brows furrowed.

“What do you mean?” she asked softly, and he looked up to her, his eyes wavering.

“I’m so fucking gone for you,” he whispered his face pleading and laced with hurt. “Don’t you know? I knew that when we were together that night, I couldn’t keep up the charade anymore I… I knew that you felt it was a step too far.”

_I’m so fucking gone for you._

“You’re…”

“Absolutely in love with you, yes,” he said, not a trace of hesitation in his tone but his lips were pursed as if he regretted saying it immediately as the words left his mouth. “Have been since we both met again in that bar. And if that makes me an idiot, I really don’t care. I’d rather let you know then keep it inside. That’s what I meant when I said I couldn’t do it anymore because I can’t.” 

She looked away, her eyes blinking rapidly, and her face screwed up in an incredulous grimace.

“Fuck, you don’t know how long I’ve been meaning to tell you that,” he whispered, shaking his head as he looked down at his lap. “It’s been killing me since, and then when you kissed me in my car…”

She stood up and paced, holding the bottom of her face in her palm.

“You,” she pointed down at him. “Love me?”

He blinked.

“Me?” she asked. “Have you met me? I’m a fucking mess! I used you and then ran away, why would you want that?” she yelled at him, the threat of tears stinging at her eyes.

“But I’m a mess too Arya,” he yelled back, standing up to tower over her. “As big and angry of a mess as you are. But you don’t make me feel that way! You make me feel like I have a purpose.”

She saw red.

“You can’t just—” she threw her hands up and he sat back in the chair, looking halfway between amused and defeated.

“I can’t just what Arya?” he asked, resting his forearms on his knees, peering up to her.

She looked at him, her face feeling as though it were burning up. She had so much to say but nothing in the Common Tongue could possibly articulate the magnitude of what she felt.

“You can’t fucking say that. Stop it! It’s infuriating. You’re so in control,” she exclaimed angrily and looked around his apartment. “I don’t care if you think you’re the same, it just doesn’t look that way, okay? It looks like you have it all compartmentalised and I feel so— I look like a mess; I drink, I do fucked up shit just to feel an ounce of something and by the time I’ve done all that, I don’t know what I’m trying to feel anymore. I’m lost, completely fucking lost and then you come around and it’s like… I’m not anymore, and it makes me want to work towards a purpose. You’ve got your own apartment, a steady job with your own friends, your own life. So it doesn’t help but make me feel like you deserve someone who has their life together. More so than me.”

She heard him chuckle humourlessly. 

“That’s a load of bullshit if I ever heard it,” he remained where he was, but this time a soft smile on his face. “You’re barely twenty-four and you’re still studying. You’re not meant to have your life all sorted out.”

She quietened and looked at her shoes; ratty and dirty. She was a mess, the kind of person who couldn’t deal with one mishap before she was spiralling again, couldn’t take constructive feedback without shutting down, couldn’t…

“And yeah, maybe I’ve been grounded because of my ambitions but that doesn’t mean I had it sorted when I was your age. It took me years to get to a point where I didn’t feel like a complete failure every day, and it’s not like I still don’t have those moments.” 

She snorted.

“Please don’t say ‘when I was your age’, it sounds weird,” she scrunched her nose up. “But yeah… I guess.”

“You guess? Or you don’t believe me?” he questioned, and she felt her heart stutter in her chest.

She watched him run his hands through his hair and look out the window. It was cold today, and Gendry’s heater was much better than her own. She was starting to sweat through her coat. When she took it off, she felt his eyes on her; scanning, studying, analysing. She had never felt more vulnerable in her entire life.

“Why does it scare you?” he asked her, almost sounding like he knew the answer. “It’s only me."

“It’s not you, _Gods_ ,” she let out a pained laugh. “Being with you, it’s like breathing. It’s always been like that and you know it.” 

His head tilted, ever so slightly, the compassion on his face burning a hole through the wall around her heart.

“Then what Arya?”

She wanted him. _Gods,_ of course, she wanted him. She wanted to say everything there could possibly be said, like loving him as easily as he said he loved her. But she sat there like a mute, allowing the silence to settle like dust.

After a few minutes, she heard him sigh.

“Look, I’m not the best person when it comes to relationships and people or whatever. You know that,” he said, dragging a hand over his face. “And I was enjoying whatever we were doing before I screwed it all up, our friendship included. But I want something with you Arya, more than just sex. I need it. I just—”

“You didn’t screw it up,” she told him and held his gaze.

“I did, there was no need to make you feel worse just because I couldn’t handle you being scared off,” he reiterated. “Because you clearly don’t do commitment, it’s practically the biography to your personality.”

“Hilarious,” she deadpanned but looked away, out of the window of his apartment.

She had looked out the very same window the morning after their last time together. Because she had woken up, her head on his chest and his arms around her, and her heart had burst with emotions she could not explain. Now she could, she had felt content and warm right down to her toes. The feeling that someone wanted her for more than their eight seconds of pleasure, someone who cared about the minuscule, stupid details of her life. Someone who loved her.

Because Gendry did.

When she looked back at him and his pained face, it hurt her knowing that she had hurt him, a feeling that would have never affected her before as she wouldn’t let people close enough.

“I know…” she started before her voice crackled. “I know that I’ve said that in the past but… It’s not true. Not with you. It never has been, even when we started this whole thing.”

He looked at her, alarmed and startled.

“What do you mean?” he interrogated. 

She held his gaze and swallowed.

_Use your words Arya._

“I want to be with you,” she said softly, and his brows disappeared into his hairline. “That’s what scares me.”

“You—"

  
She rolled her eyes affectionately and let him take his time to absorb the weight of what she was offering. Because she did want that with him, no clearly denying the profound feelings they had for each other.

“You want to be with me?” he questioned.

“No,” she rolled her eyes. “I just came over here to drink tea.”

“Don’t do that,” he groaned.

She resisted a smile, there was nothing better than goading him. But looking at his face made her revert back to seriousness.

_Tell him._

“I want to give this,” she gesticulated between them. “A try, because you make me feel safe and we’re best friends and because I—”

He looked at her, his eyes raising in anticipation whilst her heart thudded in her chest.

“I love you,” she breathed. “This whole thing scares me because I love you. So much, but I struggle to express it and instead I just ended up hurting us.”

Suddenly his eyes lost their edge and it was as though someone had taken the world’s weight off his shoulders. When he breathed out, it was a breath of relief and for the first time, the anxiety that spiralled through her veins dissipated.

“I love you and I…” she looked up at him and he was smiling. “I’ve never been in love before and it’s this feeling that’s so overwhelming that I don’t know what to do with myself.”

She felt a tear slip down her cheek and she brushed it away hurriedly.

“It’s scary,” she continued. “Because I don’t need to second guess being vulnerable in front of you… But I’m just so scared that one day you’re not going to like who I am and—"

She felt him go over to her, settling down on the couch beside her and brushing her hair away from her face.

“It’s like that for me too,” he cupped her cheek and brought her eyes up to his. “I don’t think I’ve ever been in love like this before. Never like it’s been with you.”

She smiled and saw his eyes glisten.

“Come here,” he beckoned, his voice the softest she had ever heard it.

She wiped her eyes and went over to him, situating herself on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck,

“I’m so sorry Gendry,” she said, and he moved to kiss her forehead. “Forgive me?”

She sunk into him, her bones dropping lethargically as she melted against his warmth. She had always abhorred the clichés about feeling safe and protected when with someone, but as the crucible of her vulnerability and the emotions she had suppressed split, there was no one else she wanted more than Gendry to wrap his arms around her.

She felt him sigh.

“There’s nothing to forgive. I’m sorry too,” he whispered, pulling back to see her face.

“No, you did nothing but help me. I really needed someone to not pity me for once, did wonders for my massively inflated ego.”

“Don’t say that,” he told her softly, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “You needed support and I snapped. I’ve got things to work on too, I’m not perfect."

She distilled into silence, watching his eyes flicker over her. With her thumb, she traced the hills of his cheekbone to memory; his soft eyes flickered and watched her face, “I’ll work on myself too,” she said and pressed her lips against his. “No more running away.”

“Good to know,” he chuckled infectiously, and the sound made her heart feel light.

“I think we communicated about the wrong things,” she said, laughing too. “Assumed too much maybe?”

“You think?” he said, his laugh vibrating through their skin. “I think that’s something for both of us to work on.”

“We’re seriously doing this,” she smiled. “You know what… For once I think Hot Pie was onto something.”

He groaned and she laughed.

“He’s never going to let us live that down,” he mumbled, and she ran her fingers through his hair.

“Maybe he just knew,” she whispered, and he chuckled.

It started to rain, thick, wet drops pattering against the windowpanes. The room was bathed in grey all the sudden, and she truly saw the blemishes under his eyes.

“You look so tired,” she whispered, her lips a hairbreadth from his.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admitted, his palms finding her waist and drawing her in. “So stay here tonight okay? I always sleep better with you.”

She smiled and pressed her forehead against his.

“Alright.”

It felt at home to be one with him, his arms sturdy around her, keeping her grounded.

And she could have stayed there for much longer more. 

* * *

**_A couple of months later..._ **

It wasn’t long until she graduated, spending the day with her friends and with Gendry.

And it was just to his nature that he had invited her father and subsequently her mother too, they both taking them out to an awkward dinner. Gendry had gotten on well with her dad, mostly because the two had met before. Yet under her mother’s harsh gaze, the same cycle had returned and with that, the years of judgment and the societal expectation that Arya be just like her.

When her mother had made a comment about Gendry’s tattoos, she cracked.

_“I’m sorry but we’re leaving,” she said, standing up. “I’m not going to sit here and let you speak to him like that.”_

_“Arya you sit down right now!” Catelyn hissed, not wanting to make a scene._

_“No, I didn’t ask you to come down. Gendry asked both of you because unlike you, he thinks beyond himself and now we’re leaving, because I won’t sit and endure another minute of your pretentious elitism.”_

_She had dragged Gendry out of the restaurant, and they had gone home. The whole time, he hadn’t said a word in resistance, and she felt proud knowing he wasn’t ever going to challenge her decision to stand up to her mother._

Now, after sending an apologetic text to her father, she watched the said man put his blazer away on a hanger, ogling him unapologetically.

“Can I help you?” he asked, raising a brow at her.

She smirked and let his eyes flicker over her.

“You sure can.”

She laughed as he rolled his eyes.

Although the night had been awkward, every time she looked at Gendry, she was blown away by the magnitude of love she felt for the man in front of her and nothing could dampen her feelings. Not even Gendry himself, as he attempted to tease her for being a sap. He was testing her, she could tell, wondering if she was going to spiral. It was a test if she was uncertain about the legitimacy of their relationship, but Arya could be sure that he was properly convinced. She couldn’t care less of what her mother thought of her choices. Despite her relationship with them not being quite as healed as she wished it would, there was no hesitation in her decision to come for the next Christmas, bringing Gendry along with. After all, it wasn’t a matter of proving that she had gotten back on her feet after time spent chasing darkness down a never-ending hole. It was the fact that _she_ had put herself in a good mood, through efforts of her own that she worked hard to achieve.

But then she looked up and saw Gendry tugging on a pair of sweats, closing the closet and not so subtly forgoing a shirt. She watched as he put his socks on, his usual expression on his face that was part seriousness, part exhaustion.

He yawned and rounded the bed to climb in, putting on his reading glasses and opening a book. After a few moments, she couldn’t hold in her laughter and he looked at her curiously.

“What?” he asked her.

“Nothing,” she smiled genuinely like she hadn’t in years and the answer wasn't supposedly credible enough for him. “You just look like a grandfather.”

“Alright, get your ass here,” he demanded, putting his book down on the bedside table and she grinned, as he quickly found out when he hauled her over his frame that she hadn’t a stitch of clothing on underneath the large shirt that was his.

Later, resting in post-coital bliss, everything that had happened that day hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt Gendry stir beneath her, knowing he was utterly sated but equally as drained as she felt from a night that seemed like it never was going to end.

“I love you,” she whispered, tracing invisible circles against his chest.

He tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear and she dared herself to look up at him. 

“I love you too,” he said, tracing her cheekbone with his thumb. “What’s wrong?”

“What? I can’t say I love you to my boyfriend now?” she smirked.

“Yeah, you can but it doesn’t work if you’re a terrible liar,” he said softly.

“Only with you,” she sighed, looking away. “Just exhausted from today. It was a bit overwhelming.”

“Naturally,” he kissed her shoulder. “I’m sorry she acted like that.”

“No, _I’m_ sorry you had to deal with her, and she made the stupid fucking comment. You’re the one who organised the dinner and… I just still felt so judged, like I’m always doing something wrong,” she continued as he pressed a kiss to her neck. “But I need to be proud of myself before I go seeking other people’s validation. I can’t let them make me feel so shit.”

“Mm, that confidence is truly very sexy,” he whispered against her jaw.

“Not where I was going but I’m glad for the support,” she rolled her eyes but smiled either way.

“I am about to pass out, but I will say this,” he said, returning his gaze to hers. “You did your part, you met her despite her making you feel the way you did. She still didn’t respect your achievements or your boundaries and—"

“Or yours,” she added, and he sighed.

“Look, Arya, I learnt to not really give a shit about people like your mother. But the way she just couldn’t see you were making an effort wound me up the wrong way,” he ignored her obvious look. “What I’m trying to say is you’ve done whatever you need to, so of course you have every right to feel beaten down but you’re right. You’re the one in charge of your happiness and I’m glad you feel that way.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek.

“I know that,” she whispered. “And I have you.”

“You do,” he said, kissing her forehead back. “Always.”

They distilled into silence again, the comfort of his bedroom making her feel more at home than any other place in the world. 

“At least my dad liked you,” she said.

“That’s true,” he rubbed her arm up and down. “I thought that was going to be the bad one. Guess I’ll see about the rest of your family.”

“You’ve got tattoos and a cool car,” she assured. “So you’re automatically a Rickon magnet.”

“But your mother’s worst nightmare,” he joked.

“Jon likes you,” she assured him, and he raised an eyebrow. “Bran would think you’re amazing, he’s got a good eye for people but he’s too busy being a nerd in Oldtown.”

“And the eldest one?”

“Robb is two seconds from coming out of the closet and causing my mum another heart attack. He tries to look intimidating but he’s the biggest softie of the family.”

“Your sister?"  
  


"You’re lacking the tits.”

He spluttered and fell into laughter.

“Is anyone in your family straight?”   
  


“Not a single one,” she snorted and watched him regard her. “What I’m trying to say is,” she sat up and looked down at him as he regarded her quietly. “We’re together, and my family knows that. And most of all my mother knows that, which… Is important to me.”

She lay down on his chest again, feeling him relax underneath her.

“I’m proud of you,” he kissed her hairline and she smiled. “For all of this, it’s hard but you still made it work.”

“It’s because I love you,” she said softly.

She could feel his hesitation in the air as if he wanted to say something more than he implied.

“I’m not going to run away,” she assured him, cocking one of her brows.

He cupped her cheek and brought her eyes to face him.

“I know that,” he told her firmly. “I’m just happy, so much that it feels… Surreal? Like you know how it feels when things are too good to be true. So I just want to know if you’re on the same page.”

She rolled her eyes but leant up to kiss him on the mouth chastely. He made her feel so warm.

“I’m more than happy,” she rested back against him and he stared at her, his eyes dark and mystified.

After a moment, he spoke again.

“Because, you know… I was thinking,” he said to the ceiling, twirling a strand of her hair in between his fingers.

“You were thinking,” she repeated, waiting for him to continue.

“Your lease is coming up,” he said.

“How do you know that?” she asked with a little laugh.

“You told me, genius,” she could practically hear him roll his eyes. “And I think that’s a thing we should consider.”

“Gendry I basically live at your apartment, you don’t need to keep dancing around asking me to move in with you,” she said, and he jerked a little bit, obviously taken off guard. “And no, I don’t think it’s too soon, I’m very on board. Hot Pie thinks so too.”

“Fuckin’ can’t keep his fuckin’ twat mouth shut,” she heard him curse under his breath and she laughed.

“Yeah well, that’s your fault for trusting Hot Pie. He cannot keep a secret to save his life.”

Gendry just groaned and draped his arm over his eyes.

“I’d love to move in with you,” she whispered, kissing his clavicle. “Can’t think of anything better.”

She felt him grin, his muscles tightening under her.

“Is that so?”

She hummed her answer and focused on his palm that was stroking up and down her arm. Something deep in her belly curled. Her hand slipped south but he caught it, pushing it away and kissing her deeply.

“Sleep,” he beckoned softly. “You wear me out. Let’s talk about it in the morning.”

Instead, she rolled on top of him, straddling his hips and he groaned before chuckling as he held her weight.

“You’re such an old man, you’re almost thirty,” she jeered, and he pinched her hip making her yelp.

“Yeah, and I’m about to get cranky,” he teased, tossing her to his other side to spoon her, making her yelp. He silenced her by wrapping his arms around her waist. “So sleep.”

She felt his breath against her neck, and she sighed, her body relaxing under his. Once upon a time, she would have hated being locked against someone’s body and in their arms. Now, she listened to his heartbeat and tried to match it with hers, falling closer and closer into slumber.

It was home.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/thelandofnothing)


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